


Lumos

by fidelitasinfinite



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Eleventh Doctor Era, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Science Fiction & Fantasy, souffez - Freeform, whouffle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-06-06
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:55:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1119034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fidelitasinfinite/pseuds/fidelitasinfinite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clara and The Doctor set off to meet one of the most famous writer of our generation, J.K. Rowling, to give her hope at a time when she had none.<br/>Yet, they are quickly faced with a danger that they had not expected: Indeed, something terrifying is hiding in the thick mist which encompasses the city of Edinburgh. They must find a way to save the town and everybody in it, of course with lots of whouffle fluff along the way.<br/>[Not a crossover !]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clara's Request

**Author's Note:**

> • This story will be also pulished on fanfiction.net and wattpad, under the same pseudo (fidelitasinfinite), so please do not report me for copying my own fanfic on the other websites haha, but if you see the story anywhere else with another name, please warn me !
> 
> • I took into account the minisodes "Clara and The TARDIS" and "The Ultimate Guide". If you haven't seen them, it's fine but I suggest you go watch them because they are really adorable and super short (approximately three minutes), plus you can easily find them on YouTube.
> 
> • The story is situated between "Nightmare in Silver" and "The Name of the Doctor". 
> 
> • I really tried my best to respect the show AND the characters. By this, I mean that I tried to make it like a real Doctor Who episode.
> 
> • I think this is the the most important thing you should know: I am not a fluent english speaker. I am french, but studying english, and writing this story in english was kind of a challenge for me, to practice my writing and to prove something to myself, I guess! So, before posting it I asked the wonderful @WhouffleFans (Follow her Whoufflé account on Twitter! it's the best Whoufflé account ever, I promise!) to read it and to correct it, without her you would probably be reading an awful story! I did try my best, but my style is still probably not great, so please don't be too harsh haha! But of course, if you see any mistake left, I would really appreciate if you could point it out to me (you can message me, or leave a comment!)
> 
> • If you haven't seen or read "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows", the story contains spoilers about the death of some characters. Yes, it's Harry Potter related, but I promise you, this is not a crossover ! (actually I was inspired by the episode "The Unicorn and the Wasp" -fourth series, episode 7-)
> 
> • All the sentences or phrases followed by a " * " are not from me, but from a Harry Potter book or film! I quoted them on purpose, but I will let you decide if the characters did or not ;)
> 
>    
> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, everything belongs to the BBC, Warner Bros and J.K. Rowling. I do not make any profit from the publication of this text.

                                                                       

 

 

> _“We do not need magic to transform our world. We carry all of the power we need inside ourselves already. ”_  
> 
> — J.K. Rowling

 

Wednesday.

It was raining. _Again._  It had rained the whole week. Usually Clara didn't really mind the rain. When you live in England, you get used to it, and then you learn to love it, or hate it. Clara was one of the rare ones who had learned to appreciate it. She enjoyed falling asleep in her warm bed, listening to the sound of the water droplets pinging on the roof. When she was younger, she used to take pleasure in spending her Sundays on the couch comfortably curled up in a wool blanket, watching old films or reading a book while drinking a cup of tea.

But Angie and Artie, well, that was another problem. The kids were going insane. They spent their days pacing up and down in the house like caged lions. Angie was always complaining because her favorite TV show was on a hiatus, and Artie had broken his Xbox. They were arguing about who was going to get the computer, when Clara walked into their messy room.

"You've had it for two hours! It's my turn now, Angie!"

"Are you joking? You were on it all afternoon yesterday, while I was forced to make a soufflé with Clara!"

Clara was about to say something, but she got interrupted by a strong thunderclap, followed quickly by lightening. All the lights in the room –and probably the whole house and neighborhood– suddenly switched off. The only light source left was the laptop' screen which still had some battery left.

Clara smirked. This electricity cut was very timely. She knew  _exactly_  what to do.

As the kids both ran to fight for the computer, Clara grabbed it skillfully from Angie, and closed it firmly.

"That's it!" She shouted bossily, "No more computer for today."

"What?" They both started to whimper, "You can't do this Clara!"

"Oh, you think so? Try me," replied their nanny with a smile.

She marched out of the room, laptop in hand. She was not done with the children yet, but first, she needed to hide the laptop somewhere they would never find it. It might have seemed simple at first, but after all it was their house, not hers, and they knew it way better than she did. Clara was just about to climb on top of the refrigerator when she heard a noise.

A beautiful noise.

The noise of the universe and of all of space and time.

She looked out the window, and smiled with relief. Could you find a better place to hide something than a box that was bigger on the inside?

She rushed downstairs and opened the front door at lightening speed, ran outside without even taking the time to grab an umbrella, and pulled on the TARDIS door, which remained shut. She tugged and tugged, but unfortunately the TARDIS was content to watch her get soaked. By the time the Doctor opened it, she was shivering from head to toe, covering the laptop under her waistcoat. When the door finally creaked open, Clara walked right past the Doctor and headed straight for the console:

"Do you think it's funny?!" She shouted to the machine, "Now I'm all drenched! But that's  _exactly_  what you wanted, right? Why are you being so mean to me, I've done nothing to you! I did NOT know that you were bigger on the inside when I called you a snog box!"

"Clara, why are you carrying a laptop?" Asked the Doctor, who was slightly upset of being ignored. He was expecting a hug!

"Doctor!" Clara exclaimed.

"Yes! I'm still here!" He replied with a grin. She was so funny when she was irritated.

"Sorry," she muttered as she nodded at the computer with her head. "Arms full. No hug yet. Where can I hide this evil thing in your  _evil_  –she gave the console a black look– spaceship?"

"Why would you hide a laptop on the TARDIS?"

"I just want to keep it from the kids for awhile," she sighed. "They won't stop arguing over it."

"Well, you could hide it in your bedroom. I mean your TARDIS bedroom," he suggested.

"Are you  _sure_  that this is a good idea? I mean, the TARDIS hates me, and she always hides my bedroom. Angie and Artie would kill me if I didn't give them their computer back eventually, especially this one, since you... tinkered with it, and accidentally set up Windows 11, or, whatever."

"Nah, trust me, the TARDIS doesn't like you, but she's a good girl, she won't steal your laptop... Well,  the kids' laptop... If it were yours..."

"I knew it. Come with me, just in case. She won't do anything as long as you're there."

"I know," he smirked by giving the TARDIS a little tap on the console which replied with innocent mechanical noises.

Clara rolled her eyes with exasperation then walked through the corridor, followed by the Doctor. They found her room –a small space with only one tiny bed– without any trouble, and she put the laptop under the blanket. She really wasn't worried about the kids finding it, because they would not be getting in the TARDIS any time soon.

"It is okay? Can we go now?" Asked the Doctor, getting impatient.

"I just have one more thing to do, and then I'm all yours!" Clarareplied while running to the TARDIS doors.

The Doctor followed her, curious about was she was up to. He loved Clara for this, she was always surprising him, even the little things she did without really noticing, like biting her lips, well, he  _always_  noticed that. After all, she was his impossible girl.

They entered the house, Clara even more soaked than before. She went upstairs, straight to the kids' bedroom. They were both sitting on a bed, looking at their feet and visibly dying of boredom. When they saw that the Doctor was with Clara, they immediately got up and started screaming:

"Doctor!"

"Doctor, tell her to give it back to us!"

"Please Doctor!"

"She'll listen to you!"

"You're her boyfriend! Come on Doctor, do something!"

The Doctor, who was totally taken by surprise, looked speechlessly at both of the children with panic, but luckily for him Clara already had a plan. He may be very good at stopping aliens, but human kids were more complicated for him, especially the Maitlands.

"Alright," she started, "Listen to me, there is no electricity anyway, so you're stuck here without a screen. And you still have no idea what to do? Come on! Look; –she pointed at their bookshelf which was completely full– all of these books you haven't read yet! You have a whole world to explore, you just have to open a book! Here, Angie, you haven't read _Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows_  yet, am I right?"

"Yeah, but..."

"Here!" Said Clara by taking the enormous book from the library and thrusting it into Angie's arms. "I read it in three days, try to beat me," she told her with a wink. "And you, Artie. You stopped at the fourth book, it's a shame. You're British, for god's sake!" She took the book and gave it to the little boy who stared at it with wide eyes.

"Three days, really?" Asked Angie. "I didn't know you were such a nerd."

Clara suddenly froze, before replying gently with the sweetest smile the Doctor had ever seen:

"You know Angie, you don't need to be a nerd to love great stories. Stories are amazing. They not only distract you, they change you, as a person. You're not just reading them, you're living them, with the characters. You laugh with them, you cry with them, and sometimes, you grow up with them. And when you close a book, you feel the emptiness of their absence. But that's okay. Because you can open the book and find them again. You'll just know them better than the first time around. Or, you can open another book, with other different characters, and start a whole new journey. It's your choice, really."

Clara had taken Angie and Artie's breath away. They were both wordlessly looking back and forth between Clara and the book in awe. The Doctor gazed at her for a moment, before breaking the silence:

"Okay! Off we go, Clara?" He said, by reaching out for her hand.

Clara turned around. They smiled at each other, and she took the hand he was holding out to her.

Hers seemed so small in his, but it fitted like a missing piece to a puzzle. She needed him to feel safe, and he needed her to not fall apart.

"I'll be back for tea," she dictated to Artie and Angie.

The kids nodded, even if they both knew she was leaving for way longer.

 

* * *

 

 "So! Where do you want to go this time?" The Doctor asked, once Clara had changed her wet clothes into the first thing she'd found in her suitcase, a little woollen peach dress with a round neck and long sleeves.

Clara remained silent. Actually, for once, she had a slight idea in mind, but she didn't dare say it out loud to the Doctor. She was slightly afraid that he might make fun of her. She avoided his gaze awkwardly, hoping he would pick a destination himself and not see that she was preoccupied.

"You've got something on your mind," he remarked, frowning at her. "I can see it."

_Damn._

"No, no, it's just that I... I..." She started, but she really had no idea how to explain what she wanted without sounding dumb.

The Doctor walked towards her slowly and tilted his head down to look at her, but she wasn't looking him in the eye so he gently took her chin between his forefinger and thumb, forcing her to look up at him. He had a sweet smile on the corner of his mouth.

"Or should I say... Who do you want to meet?"

Clara took a deep breath, and the response escaped her lips before she could stop it:

" _J.K. Rowling._  I want to meet J.K. Rowling."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows with an obviously surprised look. Clara bit her lips into a thin line, immediately regretting what she had just said. Now he was going to think of her as an eight years old girl.

"Okay," said the Doctor, "but may I ask... why?"

That was probably the part she dreaded the most. Clara really had good reasons for wanting to meet the famous writer, but explaining them would be hard. It was going to bring back some really bad memories, but she didn't really have a choice. She had to tell him.

She leaned forward, her body against the corner of the console, a hand pressed on either side and begun:

"My mum used to read me the Harry Potter books, when I was a kid. I mean, the first one. It was always this one, because I loved it so much that I didn't even want to know what was going to happen next, which was really silly of me."

She paused to have a nervous laugh, and went on:

"I was sixteen when she died. I was devastated, like anyone would be at losing their mother. I'd never felt so alone in my entire life. Of course, I had my dad, and some really good friends, but all they did was asking; _'Are you okay, Clara?'_  and I used to respond ;  _'Yeah, don't worry, I'm good, thanks.'_."

She turned back and looked at all the little flashing buttons on the console, which was unusually quiet. The TARDIS was listening, which seemed really strange to the young woman.

"I don't blame them though, they were just worried about me, and trying to be nice... Anyway, then I opened her books. J.K. Rowling took me into another world. It was the only thing that made me forget my sadness, for a bit. And I felt so close to Harry, who had lost both of his parents at birth, and then to her, when I learned that her mother had died too, and that it completely destroyed her. Years after, she even suffered from depression, because she was nearly homeless, and... You know, I just want to... I just want to..."

The words were stuck in her throat.

«  _Don't cry-don't cry-don't cry-don't cry_ , _oh my God, don't cry in front of him! »_  she dictated to herself.

"She gave you hope when you were hopeless, and you want to do the same thing for her," spoke the Doctor calmly.

Clara suddenly looked up at him gratefully. He wasn't laughing. He understood. And he was watching her as if she were the biggest mystery he had ever been confronted with.

"What?" Clara nervously giggled, hoping he wouldn't pay attention to her tear filled eyes.

"Humans,"  he sighed, shaking his head. "Lonelier around people than in a library."

"It makes sense, right?" She joked.

The Doctor simply smiled, then asked:

"Where? When?"

"I think she lived in Leith, Edinburgh's port, in Scotland. I'd say... year 1995."

"Let's go, then! Edinburgh, 1995, and good old J.K...  _something wicked this way comes,_ " he added, pulling one of the levers on the console.


	2. A Strange Encounter

 

> _"What you fear most of all... is fear itself. This is very wise."_
> 
> _—_ Remus Lupin

 

 

“Here we are!” The Doctor exclaimed joyfully before opening the TARDIS doors and stepping outside, Clara behind him.

“Wow,” mumbled the brunette, rubbing her hands on her arms.

“Wow,” repeated the Doctor.

“I've never seen fog so thick! Even in London. We can't even tell what time it is!” Clara remarked as her teeth started to chatter.

Indeed, she couldn’t see further than the tip of her nose, and it was so cold that she felt like the fog was slipping through her clothes and skin, straight in her bones. A shiver travelled from her spine to her neck and shoulders, on which waved her now damp hair.

“I'm freezing,” she commented, mostly for conversation more than to complain. “I should have taken a coat.”

 _« And put jeans on, instead of this stupid dress! » S_ he added to herself while throwing a glance at her shaking legs, protected only by thin transparent tights.

“Can't you get one in the TARDIS's dressing room?”

“I wish I could,” Clara replied sarcastically, “but she doesn't like me, and never let me find it— what are you doing?” She stopped to ask, narrowing her eyes when she saw the Doctor taking off his own jacket.

“Here,” he said merely, handing it to her without even looking. “Take mine.”

“But...” She protested, “What about you?”

“I'm going to be fine. I have two hearts to keep me warm. You only have one.”

Clara blinked at him then silently took the purple jacket. Even though she was chilled to the bone, she didn’t want to take it from him and leave him coatless, but she had no idea how to respond to his argument. She wasn’t even sure if two hearts could keep a body warmer than only one, or if he were lying so she wouldn’t worry. She had been such a failure in science class. Clara swore to herself that she would Google it as soon as she got home.

Instead she thanked him quietly and pulled the jacket on, snuggling into its warmth. It was way too large for her, and came down almost to her calves, but it still had the Doctor's warmth so she immediately started to feel better.

“So! Where do you think we can find J.K.?” He asked with an enthusiastic smile, rubbing his hands together.

“Apart from Leith, I have no idea. I just know she lived somewhere around here, and she used to write in a small Café...”

“Do you remember the name of the Café?”

“Nope.”

“Great.”

“ _You_ arethe Time Lord here,  _you_ aresupposed to know everything!”

The Doctor opened his mouth to reply, but Clara immediately changed the subject and cut him off:

“It doesn't matter, we should just ask someone... This man for example,” she said, pointing to a man who was passing by. “ _Hello!_ ” She called while walking up cheerfully to him, “Excuse me, sir...”

The old man gasped when Clara put her hand on his arm. He whirled around quickly and sighed with relief when he saw the pretty, smiley girl who was standing in front of him.

“I'm sorry to bother you, but my friend and I are looking for someone; do you know Joanne Rowling ?”

“No. Sorry miss, doesn't ring a bell,” he replied with a strong scottish accent.

The Doctor came closer and stood closely behind Clara. He narrowed his eyes, observing the man. He spoke very rapidly, as if he were in a hurry. And, even though he seemed pleased to talk to the young woman, he had something unusual in his eyes.

 _« Sadness? »_ Wondered the Doctor.  _« Or..._ _Fear?_ _»_

“She's approximately twenty years old, and has a very young daughter. She's always writing in a bar... Does that remind you of anyone?” Clara asked. She hadn’t yet noticed the man's odd behavior.

“No,” mumbled the man. “I'm really sorry miss, but I have to go...”

He turned back and began to walk away rapidly.

“Where?” Shouted the Doctor suddenly, moving to stand in front of Clara.

The old man halted abruptly, his back to them.

“Doctor,” whispered Clara from behind him, “In case you didn't know, it is very uncivilized on Earth to ask people you've never meet before where they're—”

“Home,” replied the stranger tonelessly, still not looking back at them.

“ _Why?_ Why are you so eager to go home?” Questioned the Doctor, taking another step towards him.

“Are you and your girlfriend new in town?”

 _« Ohh,_ _ **great.**_ _»_ Clara thought, rolling her eyes.  _« I'm just going to have to get used to it! »_

“Yes, yes we are,” the Doctor replied calmy, without reacting to the mention of Clara and him as a couple. “Why? Is that important?”

She noticed that the Doctor was putting himself in front of her, almost protectively, and he seemed on the lookout. Nevertheless, the old man did not look like he was going to harm them when he took a very long sigh, as if he felt very sorry for them, and finally turned around.

Clara stepped on her tiptoes to see over the Doctor's shoulder, and frowned. The old man's face suddenly seemed impossibly older, and even more tired.

“Then go. You should get away from here. This is not a place for a young couple like you two.”

“Why?” Clara asked. She was beginning to get very concerned. “What’s going on here?” She added, stepping around the Doctor, who had an annoying tendency to treat her like some fragile China doll.

This time, the elderly man started laughing. The Doctor stayed still while Clara –who thought it was actually quite creepy– looked nervously around to see if there was anyone else on the quiet little street, but they were alone.

“You... you really have no idea, do you?” The grey haired man hiccuped between giggles.

The Time Lord did not answer, he just stared at him with a steely gaze, stern and unwavering. The poor old man immediately stopped laughing.

The Doctor hated not to know.

“Suicides,” finally huffed the man. “It started two months ago. And it's getting worse and worse every day. More and more people die. And there's this fog... heavier every day. At first, it was only in Leigh, but now it's spreading all over the city. It's always there, night and day. We don't know what's in it, but some people said they saw tall, dark shadows. And the cold...” He paused. “Listen, I knew some of the people who died. They were good people. And they were happy. They had no reasons to kill themselves. Yet, they did.”

“How many? How many suicides?”

“Forty-one.”

The Doctor's jaw clenched, and Clara let out a gasp before covering her mouth with the palm of her hand.

“That's impossible!” She whispered.

As she said those words, the Doctor turned to her and gave her one of his usual curious looks.

“What?” She asked louder.

He ignored her, and turned back to the old man.

“Alright, sir. Go home. Go home, and don't worry, because I am going to find out what is going on here, and let me tell you that when I do – _and oh, I will_ – _,_ there will never be fog in Edinburgh ever again.”

“But... who are you?” Asked the man.

“I'm the Doctor, and this is Clara.”

“Doctor who ?”

Clara smiled and took the Doctor's arm.

“Just the Doctor,” she replied, as they disappeared into the mist like two ghosts.

 

  
Once they were sure they had left the old man behind, the Doctor got out his sonic screwdriver and started to scan the fog.

“I knew it was alien! I'm sorry Clara, but our meeting with Mrs. Rowling will have to wait for today.”

“That's fine,” replied Clara, who had learned to sort out her priorities a long time ago thanks to a very bright little witch.

The Doctor stopped walking and stared at his screwdriver.

“Well, that's strange,” he commented.

“What?”

“It's not alien. The fog. It's the city.”

“What do you mean  _it's the city_?”

“The whole city is dying. Roads, flats, buildings, street lamps, everything!”

“But... it's just weather!”

“Clara, why do you think there's fog in cemeteries?”

His companion opened her eyes wide.

“Okay,” she gulped. “That's freaky.”

The Doctor smirked.

“Are you scared, Clara?”

“Of course not. There is just some kind of terrifying force that makes people kill themselves and creates the thickest fog I've ever seen, and you just said the whole city was dying, but...”

Clara suddenly stopped in the middle of her sentence, watching something behind the Doctor's shoulder. A dark form was heading towards them. It was too tall to be human, approximately ten feet high. Entirely covered in a dark hooded cloak made of long, ripped black cloth, making it resemble a wraith; she couldn't see its face, even though it was coming closer... and it wasn’t walking. It was  _gliding_ silently, a few centimetres above the ground, like a shadow that would have lost its owner. Clara felt an intense cold sweep over her despite the Doctor's jacket, and her own breath catching in her chest. A violent thrill shook her. She had already seen this creature somewhere.  _But it couldn't be real..._

The Doctor hadn’t even noticed yet, and kept going:

“Exactly! But I'm going to find that alien, and...”

“Doctor?”

The cold was inside Clara's very heart. She felt like she was drowning in it, and all the colours seemed to fade away.

“... you  _will_  meet J.K. Rowling Clara, I promise! But first, we just need to...”

“Doctor...”

It had seen them. It was only a few meters away. Clara was paralysed. She couldn’t even hear what the Doctor was saying anymore. There was only her, and the creature.

“...figure out what's happening there because if she lives here like you said, she's in danger too, like everyone in this town, and we can't let something happen to that woman who gave so much hope to children, teenagers, and even adults, all over the world and...”

“DOCTOR!” Clara cried, pointing at the dark form in front of her.

The Doctor immediately whirled around to see what Clara was shouting about. Because, indeed, she sounded terrified. He realised he had never seen so much fear in her wide brown eyes which were usually so warm, and now seemed frozen.

The creature had stopped moving when the Doctor had turned around. It was just looking at them, they could  _feel_ it, even if they couldn’t see its face –well, if it actually had a face– under the hood, its head was clearly turned towards them.

Suddenly, something glistening, slimy-looking, greyish and scabbed protruded from the cloak.

Clara retched when she finally understood it was a hand. It looked like something that had been decaying for many years. Then she realised that the creature was pointing a long and bony finger at them.

“It's pointing as us...why is it pointing at us?” She breathed.

 “Clara?” Asked the Doctor, taking a step back while it was drawing a long, rattling breath.

 "Yes?” Replied the girl, mirroring him.

"Are you wearing heels?”

Clara glanced helplessly at her own feet.

“Four inches. Why?”

“Nothing... I just hope you can run fast in them.”

Then without giving her time to react, the Doctor whirled around and tightly grabbed Clara's hand before breaking into an unrestrained run. She let him guide her, as she was unable to think properly while trying to run as fast as him, but her legs were so smaller! She didn’t dare to look back. She felt the presence of the creature behind them, and all she wanted right now was to get away from it. The fog was still so thick they couldn’t see where they were going, and it seemed like they were trapped in it. She tried to look around while running, to see if there were any places where they could hide, but all the flats seemed empty from the outside. She was starting to feel out of breath, and she knew she would not be able to keep on for much longer. She began to slow down, hoping that maybe they had outdistanced it, when she suddenly felt a frozen breath on the back of her neck. She turned around, to discover the creature's hidden face only a few centimetres from hers, and the putrid smell that was escaping from it made her retch again.

She let out a terrified scream. The Doctor pressed her hand in his as he kept dragging her along.

“It's going to eat us! Doctor, it's going to eat us!” She cried.

“If only you didn't wear heels all the time!” He yelled back.

“It's not my fault I'm short!” Retorted fiercely Clara —who never liked remarks about her height— , with the little breath she had left.

At the moment that she thought everything was lost, the Doctor turned left and pushed open the door of a bar. She felt the warm atmosphere pour inside of her as he pulled her through. She collapsed onto his chest and clung to him as tears of relief streamed down her face. He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her tightly to him.

“Clara,” whispered the Doctor hoarsely, “Shh, I've got you, I've got you. It's gone. It's okay, it won't touch you. I’m right here.”

Clara could feel him repeatedly kissing the top of her head softly. She took a deep breath and finally let go of him. She looked feverishly around to see that they were in a little Café, poorly lit, but cozy. There were not many people, just an old couple reading the newspaper, and in the corner a dark haired woman who was scribbling something in a notebook. The man behind the bar was staring at them with a very shocked expression on his face. The Doctor noticed, and explained with a big smile:

“Pigeons! My friend has always had a dreadful fear of pigeons! Right, Clara?”

Clara, who was still in shock awkwardly stammered:

“Y-yes... I-I hate them...”

“We’ll take two hot chocolates!” Ordered the Doctor, taking Clara's hand and leading her to a secluded table.

Clara flopped herself on the chair in front of him. Her elbows on the table, she put her head in her hands, running her fingers through her hair.

“What was that?” She asked, controlling her voice, her eyes fixed on the varnished wood of the table.

“Well, I think we found the alien,” replied the Doctor, leaning towards her over the table.

“No. I mean what kind of alien is it?” She insisted, closing her eyes, then reopening them immediately, because all she could see was the creature's hooded face in front of her.

“I think you know exactly what it was, Clara,” the Doctor stated seriously.

She let her hands drop to her sides, she lifted her head up and jumped, not expecting the Doctor's face to be so close to hers. She shook her head slowly.

“It can’t be. It just can’t. Doctor, it can't be an actual  _Dementor!_ ”

The Doctor just stared at her with a steady gaze, and remained silent.

“No,” she persisted, “It’s  _ **not**_ possible.”

The Doctor raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Her fear seemed to be appeased, but something else was bothering her.

“Are you  _angry?_ ” He asked, curious.

She sighed and gestured helplessly before enumerating :

“Centaurs. Giants. Unicorns. Goblins. Nargles. Little cute House-Elves. Phoenixes. Hippogriffs. Mermaids. Dragons. And we get a bloody  _Dementor_!” She fumed. “This is the  _worst_ creature  _ever_!”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows, too surprised to laugh, but a half-smile quickly appeared on his face.

Luckily for him, Clara wasn’t paying attention. She thought for a moment and then finally asked:

“How bad are they? I mean, are they exactly like in the books?”

“Well... A Dementor is a dark, very dark creature, considered one of the foulest to inhabit the universe. They come from a planet called Tenebrarum, where everything is nothing, where light and colours don't exist, which is why they're blind, but they have the ability to  _feel_ us, our emotions, and the warmth of our bodies, which is probably worse than been able to see us because our emotions, are stronger than our looks or bodies, and they make us... appetizing. They feed off other people’s–not necessarily humans– happiness, and cause depression and despair to anyone near them. Oh, and, they can also consume a person's soul, leaving their victims in a permanent vegetative state: it's called the Dementor's kiss. There's no chance at all of recovery. You'll just... exist. As an empty shell. And your soul is gone forever…lost. They consume the energy of all the days you had, all your stolen moments. But I assume you knew that already. It's very joyful, as you can hear.”

“Yes, it sounds very friendly, indeed... Splendid. It's like you've picked up a line from the books,” sighed Clara by snapping her fingers at the words “picked up”.

“Except that this isn't a creature from a magical world here, Clara. It's an alien, and a  _nasty one_.”

“But how did they came here? With a... flying saucer, or something?” She asked, curiosity filling her eyes.

“No, they don't use spaceships. It's their particularity, they don't travel, they create themselves through the minds of other living creatures, including humans, apparently. They use someone's thoughts and conscious. Only a very clever, and imaginative person would have the ability to imagine them. It could be anyone, an eighty year old man, a child, a middle aged woman...”

“J.K. Rowling. She lives here, and she's the one who invented them. They came through her,” Clara said simply, realising how obvious it was.

The bartender appeared and placed two steaming mugs in front of them. The sweet smell of the liquid tickled Clara's nostrils. She looked down into the cup.

“Hot chocolate...” She whispered. “Is it for...?”

The Doctor smiled, proud of his companion's vivacity.

“Yeah! Chocolate has unbelievable virtues. Well, actually it's not really the chocolate, to be more precise it's the sugar and the endorphins in it, the fact that they're in the chocolate is just a happy accident!”

“Since I’m traveling with you, you may need to know I was a mess in biology. Still am.”

Not that she thought she needed something stronger than hot chocolate to recover from this dreadful experience, but still.

“The sugar may reduce stress, and have a calming and pain relieving effect, but endorphins are related to pleasure, happiness.” The Doctor explained. “For example, when you're in love, your body creates endorphins. Which is why you're all... soppy,” he added with a face, remembering how Amy and Rory were always snogging. “And, you know, love is one of a Dementor's worst enemies...”

“Actually, I thought it was a Patronus spell,” Clara replied, taking a sip of her hot chocolate; which she found warming, as it seemed to burn away a little of the fear still fluttering in her chest.

The Doctor chuckled.

“As I told you, this is not a magical creature. No spells.”

She sighed and bit her lower lip, without noticing how the Doctor's eyes lingered unconsciously on her mouth.

“Sad. I've always wanted to cast a spell... So, how do we get rid of it?”

He didn’t answer immediately, staring at her mouth, the way her lips moved when she spoke and how full her bottom lip was, it was almost hypnotizing… He shook his head like a dog in water and smoothed back his hair before answering:

“Not it,  _them_. They never travel to a planet alone. And I really have no idea yet.”

“But you just said love was  _one_ of their worst enemies... what are the others?”

“Well, there's light. They can't handle light, and warmth, so fire, and there's also—”

“Excuse me?” Asked a female voice.

Clara turned around to see who had interrupted the Doctor, and nearly choked.

She looked tired, really tired, but she had the same smart look that Clara had always seen in the pictures. Clara had expected her to be blonde, but she was actually dark haired. She had pale skin and dark circles around her eyes, next to her, a little girl with angelic brown curls was asleep in her pushchair.

“Oh my stars...” Whispered Clara to herself before suddenly forgetting how to speak.


	3. The Doctor's Weakness

 

> _"You're the weak one. And you'll never know love, or friendship. And I feel sorry for you."  
>  _
> 
> — Harry Potter

 

She looked at the Doctor with panic. He obviously didn't recognize her, but when he saw how Clara was glaring at him, it didn't take him much time to understand.

“Yes?” He asked, drawing himself up on his chair.

“I’m really sorry to bother you, but my pencil just broke, and I was writing something important... could you lend me one?” She asked politely.

“Oh! Yeah, of course!” Replied the Doctor, instinctively moving to search his pockets then realising he wasn’t wearing his coat.

“Clara, could you check inside my pockets, please? There must be a pen in there somewhere.”

Clara immediately began to search in his jacket.

“Damn,” she mumbled, “even your pockets are bigger on the inside.”

“What's bigger on the inside?” Asked the dark haired woman.

Clara looked up at her with admiration. 

“N-nothing... It's just... You know, sometimes, some things, or even people, seem bigger on the inside... _sort of  like magic."_

She saw the Doctor smirking from the corner of her eye. The woman looked at her, confused. 

Clara triumphantly pulled something out from one of the Doctor's pockets, thinking it was probably a pen.

“Oh whoops!” She giggled, it was actually a pair of round reading glasses, definitely not a pen.

The Doctor froze. He just stared at Amy's glasses which he had carefully been keeping in his pocket, held in Clara’s fragile hands.

Clara didn’t know Amy, in fact, she didn’t know a lot about the Doctor, but they reminded her so much of a little boy who lived in a cupboard under some stairs that she couldn’t resist and quickly sneaked a look at the woman's face. The writer was gazing at the glasses, her eyes wide. She looked at them for a few seconds, then back over at her notebook. Clara hurriedly put down the glasses and started searching for a pen again. She finally found it, after awkwardly pulling out a Barbie doll, an old broken mobile phone from 2006 and a ring from the Doctor's pockets.

“Here,” said Clara, giving her the pencil. “So what are you writing?” She asked after J. K. Rowling thanked her.

“Oh, nothing much, just some ideas. I probably won’t even publish them.”

“Don't say that!” Clara exclamed, perhaps a little bit too loud. “I'm sure it's great! Is it an article, or, I don't know, maybe a novel?” She whispered excitedly.

“Yes, yes it's a novel, actually. For children.”

“Really? That’s brilliant! I love children's books.”

“You do?” She laughed.

“Yes! I've got an english degree, and I plan to be an english teacher for the start of the next school year. What’s your name? I’m going to buy your book as soon as it gets published!”

The woman's smile grew larger.

“I doubt it will be published... but I felt the need to write it anyway. And my name is Joanne, Joanne Rowling, but you can call me Jo.”

The Doctor looked fondly at Clara's happy face. She’d gotten what she wanted, after all. She was giving hope to a great woman. And she looked so starstruck about it that it was touching.

“Nice to meet you, Jo. I'm Clara, Clara Oswald, and this is the Doctor.”

The Doctor smiled and nodded at the author.

“The Doctor?” Asked Joanne with an uncertain look. “Are you here for the... well, you know what is happening...”

Clara glanced discreetly at him from the corner of her eye.

“Yes, that's exactly why I'm here. How did you guess?”

“Oh, you're not the first to come. But the others... they just... disappeared. We don't know what happened to them, so please, leave before it’s too late...”

“Oh, well, you know, I don't go looking for trouble. Trouble usually finds me...*”  The Doctor replied with a grin.

A small crooked smile appeared on Clara's face.

“Just be careful,” said Joanne.

She made a step towards her table, when suddenly a little girl's voice came out of nowhere:

“Mummy, who are these people?”

It was Jo's daughter, who had just woken up in her pushchair. 

“Oh, Jessica, you're awake! Well, this is Clara, and this is the Doctor.”

“Hello Jessica!” Said Clara, leaning over and waving to the little girl. “Did you sleep well?”

“No,” replied the little girl, shaking her head.

Clara's friendly smile faded.

“Really?” She asked. “Why? Are you having nightmares?”

“Yes.”

“What kind of nightmares?” Questioned the Doctor.

“The shadow. It wants to eat me.”

Clara turned slowly to the Doctor. They shared a worried look, and Joanne seemed very uncomfortable.

“They're just bad dreams, sweetheart. Nothing more. Don't worry, I will always be here. The shadow won't touch you.”

Clara smiled wistfully. Jo reminded her so much of her own mother.

“I want to go home...” Cried the little girl, rubbing her eyes.

“Okay, we're going home sweetie,” replied her mum gently. “Here,” she added, handing the pencil that Clara had given her back to the Doctor, “I'm sorry, all this for nothing!”

“Oh, you can keep it,” said the Doctor, “Clara and I will be very happy to know you're writing with a pen we gave you, right Clara?”

“Of course!” She said. And then she smiled, not at the author, but at the Time Lord.

“Oh, well, thank you! It was really nice to meet you both. And good luck, Doctor!” Replied Joanne, walking towards the door which soon closed behind her.

Once she was gone, Clara looked at the Doctor for a moment, before finally saying:

“We've meet her. Doctor, we've meet J.K. Rowling!”

“I know.”

“She's such a great woman... but she doesn't look that depressed. Don't you think?”

“Well,” answered the Doctor, “sometimes the saddest people smile the brightest.”

Clara tilted her head to one side while looking at him, and murmured in a faraway voice:

“Like you, for example.”

He slowly looked up at her and then leaned his head back.

“What makes you think that I'm sad?” He asked carefully.

“Well... You were alone when you found me, but I know you’ve not always been that way. If you're really 900 years old, you've been travelling for a very long time... Nobody can travel alone that long. And all the places you've been, all those dangerous places, somebody had to save your life, from time to time. We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided*, right? And there is all this stuff you keep in your pockets, or even in some rooms of the TARDIS...” Her voice suddenly became very sweet. “You keep them to remember people you've lost, don't you?”

Okay, she was smart. She was so, so smart. 

“I won't let anything happen to you, Clara.”

“That's not the point.”

“Yes, yes that is the point! I've lost so many people, you know that, and look at you, you're here, drinking a hot chocolate with me. You are not going to end up on the infinite list of people I have lost. I brought you with me to keep you safe, and I will keep you safe. That’s a promise,” he insisted. 

“But I'm not scared!” Clara cried.

The Doctor did not have time to answer. A female scream sounded outside. 

They both got up at the same time, Clara still with her mug in her hand, and rushed out onto the foggy street. She felt the intense cold again. They looked left and right: at the corner of the street, they could barely make out what was happening but they could see a tall, dark form, was leaning dangerously towards a smaller one. A woman.

_With a pushchair._

“Jo!” yelled Clara, running straight towards her.

The Doctor followed quickly, but when they arrived, Clara skidded to a stop. The creature was no longer looking at the woman any more, it was looking at  _her_.

“Run!” She whispered, too paralysed to scream.

The Dementor seemed smaller than the one earlier. It was still terrifying, but there was something different about it, Clara was sure of that. And she could see that it did not want the Doctor. It did not want the writer or the child. It wanted her. 

“But what about you?” Asked Joanne, who had apparently noticed the creature's interest in Clara.

“I'm... I'm just going to...” She stammered with a lump in her throat.

“We need a weapon,” thought the Doctor out loud. “Weapon-weapon-weapon-weapon-weapon...” He mumbled, looking around him to see if there was anything he could use against the creature, knowing that the sonic was useless. 

 _“Weapon!”_  He shouted when his eyes rested on the half-full cup of hot chocolate Clara was still holding. He snatched it from her and splashed the Dementor with the burning liquid. 

A sharp sound came out of the alien who retracted on itself, obviously in pain.

“I thought you were against weapons!” Clara commented.

“Since when is hot chocolate a weapon?”

“But you've just said–”

“It won't last long,” cut the Doctor, “so I suggest we run!”

“Agreed!” Replied Clara, running after him and Joanne, terribly regretting her choice of footwear for the day. 

They ran away as fast as they could, but Jo had left the pushchair and was carrying her daughter in her arms, it wasn’t long before she got tired.

“This way!” She guided them, turning right. “My flat is not too far away from here, we'll be safe in it!”

They followed her, slowing down. The Dementor seemed to be falling behind, but Clara kept on looking behind her shoulder. She was afraid it was closer than they thought, hidden somewhere in the mist.

Joanne flung open the front door to a little block of flats, and beckoned them to enter. Clara threw a glance at the building before stepping in. It wasn’t very big, and looked especially gloomy. It was built with old greyish stones, and the windows were probably too tiny to let enough light in.

Clara lingered too long, so the Doctor grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. He didn’t let go of her hand after, and she didn’t let go either. Holding his hand had become so natural to her. He wondered if she even noticed, she seemed too busy looking at every little detail around her. She reminded him a bit of Amy, when they were in Van Gogh's cottage. He let himself smile at the thought.

They followed Joanne up the narrow staircase, until they finally stopped on the fourth floor, and she took out her keys to open the door.

“Come on in...” She invited them.

Clara did not make her say it twice, and walked inside with delight. 

The apartment reflected the building. Clara's first impression of the windows were right, the room was not sufficiently enlightened, especially with the mist outside which did not let a ray of sunshine pass. The furniture and decorations were very humble; just the necessary. It was small, but cozy.

“Shh, shh, it's fine, we're home,” said Joanne to her daughter while cradling her softly, sitting on the couch.

“Is she alright?” Asked Clara shyly.

“No. Of course she's not alright! Did you see what just happened?”

“I... Yeah, sorry.”

She let go of the Doctor's hand to push a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Have you got any chocolate, here?” He asked, comfortably opening drawers in the little kitchen which was attached to the living room.

“Probably, but why do you need chocolate?”

“I don't, but I think your daughter does!”

“Why?”

“Chocolate is good!” Replied the Doctor, who hated to repeat himself. “Oh, I found it!” He added, pulling out a chocolate bar and looking at it as if it were gold.

“He said it's because it contains endorphins, which help to deal with sadness. Apparently, when you feel love, your body secretes endorphins. That's all I understood,” Clara explained.

He broke two squares off the chocolate, and handed them to the woman.

“And I believe you need one too,” he advised in a very serious voice.

She watched him for a moment, without moving. After all, he was a stranger. She had every reasons not to trust him. And yet, she slowly took the pieces of chocolate he was holding out to her and gave one to her daughter.

“Eat this, sweetie, the Doctor says it will be good for you.”

Because you never have to ask a child twice to eat chocolate, the little girl took it and swallowed it immediately. A few minutes later, she calmed down and finally stopped crying.

“Do you feel better?” Asked her mother.

“Yes. You should eat yours too, mummy.” 

Joanne smiled and ate her square of chocolate, then turned towards Clara and the Doctor.

“I'm sorry, but I realised I didn't thank you... So, thank you, both of you. I don't know what would have happened earlier if you weren’t there. And, thanks for the chocolate tip, Doctor.”

He smiled.

“Just doing my job.”

“I don't like you,” stated a little voice.

“Jessica!” Scolded Joanne.

The Doctor jumped. The little girl was staring at him.

“What do you mean you don't like me?” He asked, outraged. “Kids always like me! And I've just given you chocolate! See? I'm nice!”

“You knew the hot chocolate was going to hurt the monster, only another monster could know that. You’re a monster too.”

“He's no monster!” Protested Clara.

“How old is she?” He asked.

“She's three, I'm so sorry...”

He beckoned her to be quiet, and stepped towards the little girl.

“Look at you...” He whispered with a big smile. “Look at you!” He laughed.

“Doctor?” Asked Clara, raising an eyebrow.

“Oh, you are so clever!” He rejoiced. “Congratulations on your parenting, Jo!” He added.

“Thank you, but—”

He turned to Clara who was as lost as Joanne, put his hands on her shoulders and shook her like a plum tree.

“They came through her! Through her mind! We always thought it was through Jo's imagination —a clever and imaginative person— but it's not! That's why she's having bad dreams, they're born from  _her_  fears!”

He let go of Clara and turned back to the little girl.

“This little, tiny, harmless human!” He explained, pointing at her.

“What the bloody hell are you talking about?” Asked Joanne.

“Get your daughter to sleep and I will explain to you, but first, Jessica,” said the Doctor, kneeling to be at her size, “I promise you, I'll get rid of those nightmares. Trust me. I'm the Doctor.”

He smiled, and the little girl smiled back. Clara watched the Doctor with a proud little smile. 

Jessica seemed to hesitate for a second, but she looked over at Clara for a minute and then replied, pointing at her:

“If she trusts you, then I trust you too... And your chin is funny,” she laughed, touching the Doctor's chin with the tip of her little finger.

Clara giggled as Joanne took her daughter in her arms.

“Give me five minutes,” she said. “Don’t escape!”

Clara raised her hands palms up.

“Not a chance!” She promised.

Once Joanne was gone, she turned to the Doctor:

“Are we going to tell her the truth? Like, all of the truth?” She questioned, keeping her voice low so Joanne wouldn’t overhear.

“The truth,” the Doctor sighed, sitting on the couch. “It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution.”*

“It is my belief that the truth is generally preferable to lies,”* Clara replied, sitting next to him.

“There's a difference between lying, and keeping secrets.”

“I know... Secrets can keep people safe, but they can put them in danger too. They keep us apart from the people we love...”

He stared at her, and she quickly looked over at him before innocently scanning the room. She finally broke the awkward silence by clearing her throat.

“Yes, we are going to tell her,” the Doctorcfinally decided. “She saw it anyway. It concerns Jessica, so she's not going to let that pass... And she's J.K. Rowling. If there is one person who can help us to deal with Dementors, it's her.”

“But what about us? Can we tell her you're a Time Lord and that I’m... from the future?”

“We'll see. That's not the most important thing she needs to know right now...”

“What do I need to know?” Asked the writer, coming back into the living room. 

“Well...” started the Doctor by standing up, “first—”

“What was that thing?”

“It's called a Dementor,” Clara explained, getting up too. “It's not from Earth. It feeds off human happiness, and thus causes depression and despair to anyone near them.”

“But... That's the monster in my daughter's nightmares! It’s happening inside her head, it can't actually be real!”

“Of course it's happening inside her head, Jo! But why on earth should that mean that it isn’t real?”* Said the Doctor. “Even though it's true, and not everyone is able to see them. The people who  _can_  see them are people who have known not only sadness but despair, the absence of being able to envisage that you will ever be cheerful again. The absence of hope. That very deadened feeling, which is so very different from feeling sad...* And that's why they are so dangerous here. A lot of people can't see them, so they can't escape. They just feel an unnatural cold, and the Dementors feed of their happy memories until none remain. That's why there are so many suicides in Edinburgh! They came through your daughter's bad dreams, and now, they're here, and once they have finished with Edinburgh, they will move on to another city, and another until they had fed off every single sliver of human happiness. That is how they survive!”

“Is he — a bit mad?” Jo asked Clara uncertainly.

“Mad?” Said Clara airily. “He's a genius!” “But yes, he is a bit mad,”* she added in a whisper.

“This isn’t possible!” Joanne groaned, sitting in an old armchair.

“You saw the creature yourself!” The Doctor protested.

“This is a trick! I don't believe you, I can’t believe you!”

“Oh, you believe me, because if you didn't you'd have already kicked us out. But you won't because you know it's still out there, and that we won't be safe.”

She looked up at them.

“Who are you?”

“I'm the Doctor, and this is Clara, my companion. By the way; I'm a Time Lord, and she's from the future.”

“Now I am really going to kick you out.” 

Clara stood hurriedly in front of the Doctor, and recited:

_“Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much.”_

“But... But that's... That's my... How do you...”

“I've defended the Stone, I found the Chamber, I freed the Prisoner, I was chosen by the Goblet, I fought alongside the Order, I learnt from the Prince, and I mastered the Hallows with Harry,” Clara explained with a proud smile. She had always wanted to use this sentence.

“You've read my books.”

She was suddenly very pale.

“You've read _my books_  that I didn't write yet.”

“Basically,” said the Doctor with a shrug. "The last one made me cry," he added almost in a bitter tone.

“Oh my God. I-I think I need a moment...”

She closed her eyes and rubbed her eyelids before taking a deep breath.

“Tell me more about these... things that upset my daughter.”

“The Dementors. They are among the foulest creatures in the universe, they infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them... Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself... soulless and evil. You will be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life—”*

“Doctor!” Whispered Clara, giving him a nudge in the ribs.

Joanne did not look very well. She had put her face in her hands, and was shaking her head from left to right helplessly.

“So,” she spoke nervously, “you're telling me that the worst creature of the universe is coming from my daughter's mind?”

Clara sighed. The Doctor could be so tactless sometimes... 

“Well...” He started, “...Yes.”

... Every time. Always.

“But what does that say about her?” Cried Joanne. “That's she's unhappy? That I am an awful parent, is that what it says?”

“What?!” Exclaimed the Doctor, “No! Of course not! It just says that your daughter has fears, like all children, and a wonderful imagination, just like her mother,” he smiled.

She seemed somewhat comforted, but sighed and muttered:

“I'm not sure if it's all that wonderful...”

“Of course it is. It's one of the best things in the world.” 

Clara coughed.

“So what do we do about the Dementors? We can't just let them suck people's happiness day after day...”

“No. We can't,” agreed the Doctor.

“Do you have a plan?” Clara smiled.

“Yes!”

“And what's that?”

“I don't know yet.”

The petite brunette let herself fall on the couch again. She didn’t have even the slightest idea of what to do either, and they were stuck in J.K. Rowling's flat, which really wasn’t that bad, except that they were far away from the TARDIS, and for once, Clara really wanted to be near that “sexy” old thing. She was feeling tired, and the sensation of warmth that the hot chocolate had given her was slowly starting to fade. The Doctor was pacing back and forth around the room and Joanne was still trying to comprehend what had happened.

_Clara..._

“Yes?” She asked. 

Joanne and The Doctor turned to her in surprise.

“What?” Said Clara, who was positive someone had called her name.

“Nobody called you,” the Doctor explained.

“But I've just heard...” She sighed. Maybe she was so tired, she was starting to hallucinate. “Whatever.”

She didn’t feel very well, actually. Her head and stomach were starting to hurt. 

“Jo, sorry, could I use the bathroom?” She asked in a small voice.

“Sure, it's the door next to Jessica's bedroom.”

“Thank you,” Clara replied politely before getting up.

Her head was spinning dangerously. She staggered and grabbed onto the corner of the sofa to catch herself from falling.

“Clara? What's wrong?” The Doctor asked, sounding more and more concerned.

“Nothing, I'm fine, I just... I must be a bit sick or something...” She muttered, trying to smile.

The Doctor frowned and gazed at her with a worried look.

“I'm _fine_  Doctor!” She assured, trying to smile.

To prove him right, she made three steps towards the bathroom door, but without warning her legs buckled and gave way beneath her. The Doctor, who hadn’t stopped watching her for a second, skilfully caught her before she hit the floor. 

“Clara!” 

“What's happening to her?!” Joanne panicked, standing up abruptly. 

The Doctor picked her up and gently laid her down on the couch. He took the sonic out of his jacket pocket before passing it over her face and chest.

“Her heart-beats are slow and her temperature is dropping! Something is weakening her!”

“But what?!”

“ _I don't know!_ ” Shouted the Doctor with panic in his voice as well. He wasn’t used to feeling so powerless.

The scene was eerily similar to the one when she had died in Victorian London. It was happening again, he was going to lose his impossible girl one more time, and he didn’t know if he could bare it.

 _« I won't lose you again. »_  He thought, gazing at her.

“Well, you're obviously not a Doctor,” Joanne commented.

“Of course I am not a Doctor I'm  _the_  Doctor!”

Clara could still hear them, and she was fighting to keep her eyes open, because as soon as she closed them, all that she saw was still the Dementor's face closing in on hers. She could feel her blood growing colder in her veins, but it wasn’t the kind of cold you endure in winter, when you wait for the bus in the evening, when the sun is already down and it starts to freeze. It was the kind of cold you feel when you're crying in your bed at night, thinking nobody will ever notice how hurt you are. 

_Clara..._

“Doctor...” She whispered.

He leaned forward and touched her forehead, then smoothed his hand over her hair.

“Please Clara, don't say it...”

“Say what?”

“Don't tell me to run.”

“Why would I do that? You don’t need to run, we're safe here.”

He smiled, his eyes filled with water.

“Good. Good...”

He gently kissed her forehead and stroked her cheeks with his thumb.

_Clara..._

“Can you hear it?” She asked.

“What?”

“My name... Someone is calling my name!”

“No one is calling you, Clara.”

“So... I'm hearing voices? Oh God no, hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, is it!”

“Who taught you that?!” Asked the Doctor.

“She did!” Replied Clara, pointing at Joanne Rowling.

“I did?” Repeated the woman without understanding. “Oh right! I did...”

_Clara..._

“Doctor, voices or not, I am pretty sure someone's calling me.”

“And I am definitely sure no one is calling you," he retorted. "Are you feeling better?” He asked quickly as she seemed to find some strengh again.

“I need to look out the window. Help me getting up!”

“Why do you want to look out the window?” the Doctor protested.

Clara ignored him and got up on her elbows.

“Doctor...” Joanne said suddenly with a strained voice.

Both Clara and the Doctor stopped arguing and turned to her. She was looking at something.

Out of the window.

The Doctor rushed over and Clara watched him freeze.

“Doctor... what is it?” She asked, too weak to get on her feet.

“Jo, give Clara some chocolate.  _Quick._ ”

It was the Dementors. Clara knew it. 

The Doctor turned to her.

“They're here.”

“What's happening to me?!” She panicked.

The Doctor did not reply. He gulped and ran his hand through his ruffled hair. He was worried.

_Clara..._

“They're calling me! Why are they calling me?” She asked. “Why am I the only one who can hear them?”

Jo gave her a large piece of chocolate. She ate it without protest, even though she felt sick to her stomach. Like the hot chocolate earlier, she felt a strange warmth in her stomach and bones. The cold was fading, but it was still there. She could feel a hole in her belly.

“Please, tell me I'm not going to spend the rest of my life eating chocolate on a couch,” she said. “Not that it bothers me,” she added with a shrug, “but—”

“She feels better,” cut off the Doctor with a relieved smile.

Indeed, the lack of strength she had felt was gone. She got up on her feet and walked straight to the window.

She stumbled backwards when she finally saw what was outside.

Night had fallen, and it was dark. She looked out at the black sky, and there were no moon, no stars, they were all hidden by the fog and the clouds. The street lights were nearly all extinguished, except a few lamps which flickered dangerously, threatening to turn off too. All the way down the street, there were hundreds off Dementors, floating above the frozen ground. They were all turned towards the block of flats, as if they were waiting for something, and Clara, who still thought she did not have a very big ego could not help but think they were waiting for her.

“Are they doing this to me?” She asked quietly.

“Yes,” the Doctor replied gravely.

“How?”

He sighed.

“They are... hunting you. When they hunt someone, if there are enough of them, they have the ability, if they all focus on one single person, to weaken that person. To... catch them easily.”

Clara gulped nervously. 

“That wasn't in the books,” she commented.

“Sorry,” Joanne apologized. “But why do they want her?” She asked. “I mean, Edinburgh is a big city... why her?”

Clara, who had not stopped looking out the window, turned slowly towards him.

“She's right. Why me?”

“Dementors are all... connected to each other, they're like a pack of wolves. What one sees, all of them see. The one we saw after we arrived must have found you very... appetizing. And so did them all.”

It made sense. Clara thought of the Dementor who attacked Joanne: it wasn't the same than the first one, yet the moment it had seen her, it had immediately given up on Joanne.

“Brilliant. So... they want to give me a kiss?”

The Doctor sighed.

"Yes, Clara, apparently they want to kiss you. Seems like everybody wants to kiss you these days… Why does everyone want to kiss you,  _why_  do you have to be so  _attractive_?"

She turned to him and was about to respond, had he just implied he  _actually_  found her pretty?

_Clara..._

She flipped abruptly towards the glass, her nose pressed against it. 

“What do you want?” She whispered.

Her blood ran cold again, and her legs started to shake.

_You know what we desire, Clara Oswald._

“Why me?”

_We have seen your heart, Clara, and we want it to be ours. We have seen your fears, your dreams and hopes. You are travelling with the very last of the Time Lords. You have seen things people of your world would not believe, would not understand. You are a Child of Time, a threat, and you must be destroyed._

Clara did not consider herself a threat at all. But she assumed that these creatures were a little on the mental side so she didn’t bother arguing.

“Okay, and what if I don't want to end up like a living-breathing vegetable?”

_Then every single people who comes between us, will die, and it will be **your**  fault._

Clara gasped and instinctively took a step backwards. The Doctor was behind her, closer than she thought, and her back bumped into his chest. She bit her lower lip for the third time that day, trying to keep herself from clinging to his arms. Instead, she turned her head and met the worried gaze of Joanne Rowling. 

“What's wrong, honey?” Asked the woman.

“What did they tell you, Clara?” The Doctor asked.

She could feel his hot breath on her neck. She ignored his question, and turned to Joanne: 

“Is this street very popular? I mean, are there a lot of people who pass through it, at night?”

“Why is that important?”

“Just tell me.”

“Well... not really, no.”

Clara let out a sigh of relief and put the palm of her hand on her forehead. Her head was starting to hurt again.

“Except maybe Mister Lovegood and his daughter, Luna, who live on the first floor, and always go eat Chinese food at half past seven, on Saturday nights, but...”

Clara froze and turned slowly to her.

“What day it is today?”

“Saturday, but I don't understand, Clara...”

Clara looked up at the Doctor.

“What time it is?”

He checked his golden watch before replying:

“Seven o'clock...”

“Then I don't have much time. I have to get out of here,” Clara said, trying to ensure that her voice did not tremble.

“What?” shouted out the Doctor. “Are you crazy? If you go out there, they'll pounce on you the second you step outside!”

She remained silent and kept her gaze on the floor. She had no idea how to explain to him, she didn’t want to explain to him. She knew all his life had just been a long list of the people he had lost, and she was next on that list, whether now or later, it was inevitable. Of course, she didn’t want to die, but she wouldn’t let other people be slaughtered because of her, this was very, very clear in her head. But she was scared. Scared of causing the Doctor pain, because he simply didn’t deserve any more.

“Or, that’s exactly what you want...” He added.

He had understood, as always. 

“I’m not sure what you’re saying...” Joanne did actually have a guess, but she was hoping with all her might that she was wrong.

The Doctor didn’t let Clara respond. He moved in front of her and softly held her face in his hands, both of his thumbs on her cheeks.

“Now, I need you to tell me exactly what they said, Clara,” he insisted.

The look on his face was terrifying. He was furious, and she had never seen him look so menacing. It was not the Doctor anymore, it was the oncoming storm. 

“They are going to kill everyone that comes between me and them if I don't surrender...”

“Why do they want you?”

“Because... they said I was a Child of Time, a threat...”

The Doctor let go of her, and looked thoughtfully towards the window for a moment which seemed too long to Clara.

“You are not a threat,” he finally spoke,  _“I am._ They are clever. They know I am the only one who can stop them, and they know that the only way to get to me, is through you.”

“What?”

He turned back to her, anger visible in his voice:

 _“You are my weakness, Clara!_  They know that if they destroy you, I won't be able to bare it! If you die, they win!”

The words had escaped his mouth before he could control them. He gazed at her, unashamed, but fearful of her reaction. She was staring at him, with a shocked expression in her chocolate eyes, which soon filled with tears. Damn, she was getting emotional again. Was that a good sign? Was it bad? He didn’t knew, until a sweet smile slowly appeared on her face.

“Go ahead then,” she spoke. “Fight them off, chin boy.”

He began to smile back at her. 

His smile vanished when she collapsed on the carpet. 


	4. The Love of a Mother

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Ok, so just before you read, I just wanted to say thank you for your lovely comments and kudos! They really make me happy, I'm so glad you enjoy this story! As someone who isn't born in a country where english is spoken, I find really amazing that some people enjoy a story I wrote in a language they've know for their whole life, so, again, thank you :)
> 
> This chapter (and probably the next ones) will be shorter than the other ones, sorry about that, I hope you won't be dissapointed :(
> 
> lots of love ♥

> _Love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever._
> 
> — Albus Dumbledore

 

“Clara!" The Doctor cried as he and Joanne rushed to her side.

He kneeled down and put his hand under her neck, feeling her pulse and sighed with relief when he felt the –slow but existing– beating of her heart under the tip of his fingers. However, this time she was totally unconscious. Joanne ran a maternal hand through Clara's hair.

“Will she be ok?” She asked.

“Oh yes, Joanne Rowling, she will be fine. Because first, they can't kill her from here, just weaken her, and second, they have just made me very,  _very_ mad. Which probably wasn't the greatest idea, because now I am going to destroy every single last one of them.”

He had said this very calmly, nearly in a whisper, but his voice was so threatening that the whole room seemed to stand still.

“You won't do this alone,” replied the woman.

He looked up from Clara to her. She seemed just as determined as he was and there was something blazing in the center of her eyes.

“They frightened my daughter,” she explained. _“Nobody frightens my daughter.”_

The Doctor glanced at her with a grateful smile and looked back at Clara, putting his palm on her forehead. Her temperature was very low, she was chilled.

“There is still something I don't understand,” said Joanne. “When one of them attacked us in the street earlier... Well, before you and Clara arrived, it was threatening us, but it couldn’t touch us. Jessica and I. I was really scared, so I didn't really stop to think but now that I'm thinking about it, I remember feeling like something was stopping it, like an invisible shield...” She explained, pacing back and forth in the room.

“Dementors absorb our most cherished memories and leave us with only with the worst of our life. But some feelings, or memories, are too strong for them, so they protects us. The Dementors can’t touch us. These memories or feelings are called Patronuses. Like you said, they create a sort of transparent shield around you, and it can keep other people safe, if they are close enough.  Some people think they can even be used as a weapon, that they not only keep them away, but also destroy them, wipe them out. I've never seen it done... It was the love for your daughter that kept them away from you.”

Joanne suddenly stopped walking and turned slowly towards him.

"Love?" She repeated. "Love can be used as a weapon against them?"

“I think this is pure imagination, but—”

“Don't underestimate the power of imagination Doctor. Remind me, what time is it?”

He checked his watch again.

“7.11 PM.”

“We must do this quick, then.”

“Do what?”

“I have an idea. I can't tell you, if I tell you now, I'm not sure it will work. I guess you just need to trust me.”

A determined smile appeared on her face, but when the Doctor stood up, he looked at her doubtfully.

“What is that look for?"

"I don't trust you.  _You_ are the reason I have trust issues!” He said with an accusing tone.

“What, me? Why? What have I done?”

He exhaled and looked unfavorably at her, before yelling in an outraged voice:

“ _You killed Dobby!_ I loved Dobby, Dobby was cool. How could you do that to him? He was my favourite character, aside from the Weasley twins... Oh, and speaking of the Weasley twins, you also k—”

“Could you  _please_ stop spoiling my own books?” She interrupted him.

“Yeah, right, spoilers, sorry...”

“Doctor, we don’t have time for this, we need to get outside! You will stay by me, so they won't be able to touch you, and I'm sorry, but you're going to have to carry Clara. She has to be with us.”

“But... she's unconscious!”

“But we need her, Doctor.  _You_ need her.”

He narrowed his eyes, and she looked at him without blinking, then looked quickly at Clara and looked back up at him again.

“It's obvious,” she whispered.

He looked at her, lost, before replying:

“If we die doing this, I'm going to kill you.”*

He carefully picked up Clara in his arms, and they left the flat, and headed down the stairs.

“Wait a second,” ordered Joanne before knocking on a door.

An old woman opened, a cup of tea in her hand.

“Joanne! How are you, dear? Oh, look at you, still so skinny! I was just knitting a pullover for Jessica...”

“Mrs. Figg, I am sorry, I can't talk or explain, but I need you to take care of Jessica for a moment it's important!”

“What? Do you have a... date?”

The old woman looked at the Doctor who was just down the corridor.

“Hmm, seems like a pretty young man you have here! What is he carrying, though? Is that... wait, is it a—”

“I'll explain to you later. Just watch over Jessica, please.” Begged Joanne, giving her the key to her apartment before swiftly following the Doctor down the staircase.

Getting down the stairs with Clara in his arms was no easy task, it was very narrow and dimly lit, luckily Clara was as light as a feather. They finally arrived on the ground floor, which was the biggest room of the whole building. Their heels clicked on the hard ground, and resonated in the silence of the night. The hall was cold, and their breaths were curling out from their lips in elegant spirals. They stopped in front of the door, both gazing straight ahead with tense faces.

“Are you sure you know what you're doing?” Asked the Doctor, who truly hated not knowing what was going to happen.

“No.”

“Well let's find out. Use your imagination wisely,” he said, before pointing the sonic at the door with his fingertips, his right arm under Clara's knees, and giving it a kick with his foot.

The door burst open and Joanne stepped in front of him. It was so cold outside that it took the Doctor's breath away for a second. The concrete, covered by a thick layer of frost, sparkled under the feeble and flickering lights. A crowd of hooded silhouettes were standing in front of them, silent except for a breathy  _swoosh_ that they were making, as if there were hundreds of sick old men. Clara, still motionless, let out a plaintive whimper. Her body couldn’t handle the presence of all the Dementors so close to her. The Dementors were now close enough to kill her.

« _Hold on, Clara,_ »he thought.

“They aren’t moving,” Joanne remarked. “Do you think it’s working? That they can't touch us?” She asked.

“There is only one way to find out. We have to walk among them. If they can't get to us, they will move aside. If not... Well, after all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.*”

“Fine,” she huffed. “Stay by me.”

Joanne swallowed nervously and clenched her fists. She stepped towards the Dementors, looking in front of her, head up, followed closely by the Doctor.

The Dementors parted to let her pass between them, as peasants would back up to let a queen walk among them. A victorious smirk appeared on the Doctor's lips as he pressed Clara tighter against him. Joanne was smiling too, relieved, but they didn’t speak a word until they stood on the road, in the middle of the hooded crowd. The Dementors were surrounding them in a perfect circle, but not touching them.

“HAHA!” The Doctor let out, no longer able hold in his excitement.

Joanne turned back to him with a triumphant look.

 _“Oh, you!”_  Exclaimed the Doctor. “I could hug you right now if my arms weren’t full!”

“Let's save that for after,” replied Joanne, walking towards him to take a look at the watch on his wrist. “7:28 PM! Doctor we must be quick!  _Kiss her!”_


	5. Amor Vincit Omnia

> _I thought it would be a betrayal of the character if I showed Harry doing anything other than living what all along he has discovered to be true, which is that... love is the strongest power there is._
> 
> — J.K Rowling

 

“ _What?”_ Shouted the Doctor, raising his eyebrows in astonishment.

The Dementors were growing restless. They had been motionless the whole time, but now some of them were attempting to cross the invisible shield surrounding the three of them, as if they could feel danger ahead.

“Kiss her!” She repeated, nodding impatiently in Clara's direction.

His jaw fell open and he blinked incredulously several times before yelling:

“ _ **This**  is your plan? This is madness!”_

“You should feel at ease, then.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but his outraged face finally turned into a half-amused and half-dismayed smirk as he briefly shook his head.

“Doctor?” She hurried him. “We can't just stand here and watch the grass grow!”

“We still have one minute. How did you came up with this?”

“Clara told me that it was the endorphins in the chocolate that make us feel better. If chocolate can make her well, what about a kiss? In many stories, a kiss is what breaks the curse, and maybe that's the reason why. Maybe it’s just a chemical reaction from the human body. And then you told me about that weapon, an emotion that Dementors dread... It’s love, isn’t it? The only weapon strong enough to break any curse. I just used my imagination.” She explained with a shrug, as if it were obvious.

He had never believed that theory, that a love could be so strong that it could turn into a weapon and a cure, to him it was just impossible… but so was Clara.

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because honestly, if you would have known, would we be here right now? Doctor, I’m a writer, my job is to observe people. Our only hope is love, and it just so happens to be right here.”

The Doctor looked as though he wanted to argue, but thought better of it.

“This is risky.”

“This is also the only plan we have.  _Now do it!_ ” She ordered.

“Ok, but if it doesn’t work, if, for some reason, she doesn’t love me like I… Well nevermind, but if your plan doesn’t work, we are going to be responsible for two lives. I suggest you start thinking of something else too.”

He gently laid Clara on the ground holding her up with his arm.

The Dementors seemed furious. They were jostling, trying to penetrate through the protective field, their breaths growing stronger and menacing.

The Doctor brought his face close to Clara's, resting his forehead against hers and murmured with a lopsided smile:

“I've always wanted to do this... ”

And then in the softest whisper, he said, “ _Geronimo.”_

He closed his eyes, and his lips met hers, soft and gentle.

Nothing happened.

He grew desperate, their plan had to work, if it didn’t there would be murder and he wouldn’t let that happen. He crushed his lips against hers, putting all of his love, all of  _him_ into that one kiss, and then suddenly she was responding and it was as if all the light in the world was exploding around them.

It swept through the crowd of shadows, sweeping them back. The Dementors let out enraged shrieks as the light seeped through their souls. They couldn’t stand it. They were creatures of darkness and to have light thrust upon them, destroyed the nature of their being.

The Doctor brought his arm up to cup her cheek and Clara clung to the front of his shirt, their lips melding together until they had no more breath left to give.

All the lights in the street turned on at once, light streamed from inside the buildings, and the street lamps exploded with sparks. Sharp sounds, like croaks, could be heard from the fallen creatures.

“She is not your weakness, Doctor!”  Yelled Joanne from behind them with a triumphant smile. “She is your strength!”

The Doctor looked up and smiled as Clara slumped limply in his arms. The cold was gone, and the fog was thinning. When he looked around him, it seemed as though all the light in the world had come together, the moon was shining, no longer hidden by the clouds... And, in nine-hundred years of time and space, the Doctor had never seen the stars shine so bright.

He really didn’t care about the stars, though. The only thing he cared about was one impossibly small girl curled up in his arms.

“Clara?” He whispered, picking her up.

A faint sigh escaped her, and her eyelids fluttered shut. She snuggled her head against his chest as one of her hands clutched his shirt.

Clara's vision was so blurry that all she could see was the light.  _« Am I dead? »_ She thought.  _« Is this the light at the end of the tunnel we are supposed to see? Or something like that? »_ She was relieved, because the cold and the pain were gone. Little by little, the shapes became clearer. She was not dead. The light she had seen was only the moon, but it was now hidden by an enormous...

“ _Chin!”_   She gasped speechlessly, raising her head to look around her. They were in the middle of the street and there was no trace of the Dementors.

She looked up at the sky.

“Look at the stars, we can see the stars again! They are so bright!”

“I know.” He said merely, helping her to stand up on her feet.

“But, the Dementors... The fog... What happened?” She questioned.

 _That_ , he would never tell her. His eyes met Joanne's, and they both shared a smile. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and defeating Dementors is one of them.*

“Let's just get back to the TARDIS, shall we?”

Usually, Clara would have insisted that he explained everything to her, but she was growing tired and her eyelids were fluttering shut again. A small yawn escaped her mouth.

“I'm sorry,” she apologized, “I know I've been unconscious while you two have been off saving the world, but I feel like I just need to take a really long nap... for like... three years.”

“That's okay Clara,  _you helped us more than you think,_ ” Joanne reassured her.

“Will you be able to walk?” The Doctor asked quickly, tightening his grip on her arms.

She looked up at him with a small smile, leaning her head to one side.

“Really, Doctor? I may be tired, but I'm not a baby.”

“Right, sorry...” He muttered, before turning hastily to Joanne so Clara won’t notice his embarrassment. “Are coming with us?”

“Where?” She asked.

“To the TARDIS. That's my ship," he said proudly, which made Clara smirk. “It’s not parked too far. You can see it and... we can say goodbye,” he added.

“You're leaving?” She asked, disappointed. “I thought you were staying in town...”

“We’re time travellers. We never stay. But we are never be far behind, don't worry.”

A sad smile appeared on her face, and the Doctor motioned for her to follow them. They all walked silently in the sweet night, each one of them letting their mind wandering.

Clara was wondering how on earth they had gotten rid of the Dementors and nothing she thought of was even close to what had actually happened. She was too exhausted to notice that the street lamps would shine brighter every time she and the Doctor walked under them.

The Doctor was wondering how he was going to explain everything to Clara, without mentioning the bit about snogging her in the street...

Joanne was thinking about her daughter, knowing that tonight she would not have nightmares, thanks to these two people who loved each other much more than either of them could admit.

 

After walking for ten minutes, the Doctor and Clara stopped in front of the TARDIS. The Doctor leaned his elbow against the side of the box, and casually crossed his legs. Clara rolled her eyes with an exasperated smile.

“Show-off!” She smirked to herself. She knew how much he loved to impress people with his “snog box”.

“But... That's just an old police box,” said Joanne, puzzled.

The Doctor had a boyish grin on his face, practically giggling with glee.

 _« And here we go. »_ Clara thought sarcastically.

He snapped his fingers, and with a slight creak, the door opened.

Joanne froze. She had probably stopped breathing too. She just blinked a few times, and covered her mouth with her hand.

“So...” Started the Doctor, “what do y–”

“Shut up!” She commanded him, raising her forefinger to his face to silence him.

She slowly walked around the blue box, with her index still raised, and when she finally came back, she looked at them both and finally dropped her arms to her sides with a such theatrical movement that Clara burst out laughing.

“Come on in!” She encouraged her, entering inside the box herself.

The Doctor watched her with a smirk.

“Now who's showing off?” He muttered, as he stood besides Joanne.

They could see Clara near the console, who waved at them before hiding her mouth with her hand as she let another yawn escape.

Joanne stepped in slowly, then walked to the console, to finally stop near Clara. She turned around in a circle with her head raised and her mouth open, eyes glowing with excitement. The Doctor, satisfied with her reaction, moved away to the other side of the console.

“Are you okay?” Clara asked. “I know it's a shock at first, but you get used to it, I guess.”

“It’s... bigger on the inside.”

“And it travels through time,” Clara added.

“And space!” Added the Doctor, who just couldn’t stop himself.

“So, he's really an alien...” She gulped. “And you're... from the future.”

“That's right,” replied Clara. “Everything we told you was the truth. Trust me, if we could have avoided telling you, we would have. We didn't know what was happening here when we came, and if we did we would have come sooner, I swear to you.”

“But if you have all of time and space at your feet... Why come to Edinburgh, in 1995?”

“Because...” Clara started before biting her lower lip and staring at her feet for a moment.

“Because,” she went on, “I wanted to meet you. So I asked the Doctor to take me here.”

“ _Me?_  You wanted to meet me?”

Clara nodded with a shy smile.

“But...” Joanne shook her head. “Why?”

The petite brunette put a hand on the console and ran the other through her hair before speaking.

“Because you gave me hope when I was hopeless, and I wanted to do the same thing for you.”

On the other side of the console, the Doctor froze and smiled. Joanne frowned.

“I gave you hope? But... how? We just met!”

“I know. But remember, I’m from the future. And if there's one thing that can travel through time, it's books.”

The writer leaned her head to one side and narrowed her blue eyes, before a flash of understanding crossed them. She opened them wide and muttered:

“That's my books, right? That's my books which helped you?”

Clara, who found it hard to find the right words, nodded again.

“When my mum died,” she explained calmly, “your books, your magical books, made me forget my sadness. So... thank you, for that.”

Joanne shook her head again, visibly close to tears, and suddenly hugged Clara, who was not expecting it. She raised her eyebrows with surprise, and slowly, she put her arms around her. Joanne gently rubbed her back, and for a brief moment, Clara remembered what it felt like to be in a mother's arms. When she finally let go of her, Joanne's eyes were filled with tears, but she was smiling.

“Well, thank  _you_ , Clara. You did more tonight than giving me hope, you also helped my daughter, and that is the greatest thing that you could have ever done for me.”

Clara smiled and then laughed, wiping away a tear from her cheek. She took a deep breath and in an attempt to change the subject, she piped up:

“There's one more thing I wanted to tell you.”

“Really? What?”

A childish grin appeared on Clara's face.

“Seven books, right?”

“Well, that's how I planned it, if it works out. Why?”

“Oh,” Clara said innocently, “because I always get mixed up, you know, seven books, eight films...”

Joanne's jaw fell as she stopped breathing, startled.

“ _What?”_

“That's right!” the Doctor confirmed happily as he walked round the console and put his arm around Clara's shoulders. “I even acted in one, don't forget to cast me!”

“What?” Clara asked, looking up at him.

“Yeah! Why are you so surprised? In the fourth one, I played Barty Crouch Junior!”

Clara chuckled.

“No, you did not. David Tennant did.”

“Yes Clara,  **D** avid- _ **T**_ ** _en_** nant,  **D** octor- **T** ARDIS,  _ten_ th version of me, why are you being so slow?!” The Doctor cried, visibly offended. He had put some hard work into changing his usual earth-name “John Smith” into “David Tennant” just so he could act in  _Harry Potter._

Clara raised her eyebrows and gazed at him with wide eyes, dazed.

“Well, it's too late for this, I think I should go to sleep,” she said, shaking her head.

“Yes!” Replied the Doctor cheerfully before placing a tender peck on the top of her head. “Go!”

Clara stepped in front of Joanne, who had put her hand on her forehead, her mouth still opened.

“Films!” She whispered. “It can't be, I don't believe you!”

“That's okay,” Clara replied, putting a friendly hand on her shoulder. “As long as you believe in yourself.”

Joanne looked at the hand on her shoulder and sighed sadly.

“So... I suppose this is goodbye?” She asked.

Clara nodded.

“Probably.”

“Well. Good luck, Clara Oswald.”

Clara smiled, and this time she was the one who leaned in. She put her chin on Jo’s shoulder and closed her eyes, with that little girl smile still on her face.

“Take care of yourself,” she said, letting go of her.

“I will.”

They shared a last look, and Clara turned around then walked away to find her room. But before stepping into the corridor, she stopped and ran the tip of her fingers over her lips with a thoughtful look. Then she shook her head, as if trying to awake from a dream and started walking towards her bedroom.

Surprisingly, her room was easy to find, the TARDIS hadn't hid it. Clara was even more amazed when she opened the door: her bedroom was not a simple room with white walls and a small bed anymore. The TARDIS had given her a whole new room, with a gigantic bed, a fluffy carpet on the now wooden floor, and even a fireplace where a warm fire crackled softly. On one side of the room, there was a desk, with Angie and Artie's laptop on it. The bed had red curtains, and there were paintings on the wall. Clara walked towards one of them, it was an older woman, hugging a little girl in a rocking chair. She blinked. The painting was moving. She stared at it for several minutes before walking towards the bed, on which she saw neatly folded pyjamas. She looked up at the ceiling and joined her hands as if she were praying, then yelled to the TARDIS:

“You're the best spaceship in the entire universe. Thank you!”

Then she put her pyjamas on, and flung herself onto the cozy bed.

  


Meanwhile, Joanne and the Doctor, were saying goodbye.

“You're not going to tell her what happened out there,” said Joanne, “are you?”

He stroked the back of his neck and replied:

“No. She doesn't need to know.”

“But why?”

“Because,” he sighed, “If she falls in love... in the end, it will only hurt her.  _I_ will only hurt her.”

“If she falls in love, I know you'll be there to catch her. And she's a big girl, Doctor; stronger than you think. If she can't handle a... Time Lord like you, I'm afraid nobody can.”

“You don't understand. Bad things happen to the people I care about. I brought her here to keep her safe, but she's in constant danger with me, just look what happened tonight! I should let her go, but...”

He didn’t finish his sentence.

“I think you're scared, because you know that the more you care, the more you have to lose.* But let me tell you something: it’s  _okay_ to be scared, Doctor. And it’s also okay to be selfish, and wanting to keep her with you. What would not be okay, would be to let her go, and to make you both miserable.”

He looked at her for a moment, with a thankful smile.

“Good old J.K.,” he murmured.

“ _J.K.?_ ”

Oops. Right, she hadn’t even found her pen name yet.

“No!” He panicked. “Forget that! Erase it!...  _Obliviate!_ ” He added desperately, making a weird gesture in her direction with his sonic screwdriver as wrinkles of surprise appeared on her forehead.

“I see...” She murmured.

The Doctor stared at his sonic with an offended look, as if it had betrayed him, and put it back in his right pocket.

“Hm, sorry.”

“You never stop, do you?” She laughed.

“Never,” he answered with a smile, proudly straightening his bow tie as she turned and walked to the TARDIS doors. But before stepping out, she looked at him for the last time and asked:

“You call yourself The Doctor. Why?”

“In the planet I’m from, we choose what we want to be called. The name you choose is a promise you must keep. Like an...  _unbreakable vow,_ ” he explained. “But I think you understand the power of names better than anyone.”

“Do I?” She smiled.

He smiled back, and she walked out, closing the door behind her. The Doctor leaned against the console for a moment, his arms crossed on his chest, looking thoughtfully at the floor.


	6. Silly Dreams and Diaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the last chapter! I hope you'll like it (it's sooooooo fluffy oh my god), but i really wanted to add this. Thank you all for reading the story, it really means alot to me and I want you to know every single one of your reads, even if you didn't left kudos or comments made me the happiest person on earth!

When Clara finally woke up, after a dozen hours of sleep or so, she laid on her bed for awhile. Not that she was still tired, but she had had some strange dreams during the night. Not nightmares exactly, but weird dreams she didn't know why she was having. For example, she could  _clearly_  remember the taste of the Doctor's lips on hers, even though it was just her imagination. It was that kind of silly dream that feels so real, but when you wake up, you're mad at yourself for believing for a second it was true.

She was still thinking about this when the shrill ringing of an alarm clock made her jump. She flung her arm out and slammed the snooze button to turn the evil thing off; she was pretty sure it hadn't been on the bedside table last night, which meant the TARDIS wanted her to get up now, and the box was probably right, she had dawdled long enough. She got out of bed, her body still a little numb, then ran to the bathroom, which was still the same as usual, and took a quick shower. Luckily, the TARDIS had been good enough to give her some clean clothes which were folded up on one side of the sink. She nearly cried tears of joy when she discovered a big beige woolen jumper which was fluffy and warm when she put it on, and skinny leather jeans that fitted her perfectly. The TARDIS had not only respected her fashion sense, but also given her the clothes she had dreamed of the day before. Clara wondered what she could have possibly done, for the time machine to suddenly be so nice to her. She shrugged and put her boots on before heading towards the console room.

The Doctor was waiting for her, with his impeccable hair and perfectly straight bowtie.

"Good morning!" He said happily when he saw her appearing from the corridor. "Did you sleep well?"

"Like a baby," she lied, certainly not wanting to tell him about her dreams, especially if he were in them. "And you?" She asked once she stood near him.

"I didn't sleep." He said. "I don't need to sleep like humans do."

"Right." Said Clara, thinking about how lucky he was. "Doctor?" She asked shyly.

"What?"

"The TARDIS was  _really_  nice to me." She explained. "I had the best room I've ever had, and she gave me clothes." Clara added, showing him her jumper. "Do you have any idea why?"

The Doctor raised his eyebrows and thought for a moment, looking at Clara, then at the console.

"I guess it's because the story of how you lost your mother really touched her," he finally spoke, shrugging. "She's actually a softie at heart."

"You think so?" Clara asked, surprised. She really hadn't thought of that, she didn't even think the TARDIS had been listening to what she had told the Doctor.

"Yeah!" Answered the Doctor. "You know, she acts like a grumpy old girl, but really, she's actually quite sweet." He added, stroking the console.

Clara laughed at his remark and then asked him where exactly they were.

"We're at the Maitlands. Well, in the garden. It's six o'clock, aaaaaand... it's still raining."

"As long as there's no fog, I'm happy."

The Doctor smiled at her and waited, probably expecting her to say goodbye until next wednesday, but she stayed still.

"There is still something I wanted to ask you..." She mumbled timidly, awkwardly swinging her legs.

He made a small head motion, encouraging her to go on.

"I told you about my mum. About how I felt when she died; things I've never said to anyone before. And I thought... I just, you know, I thought you may want to tell me something. About you."

He stared at her, mouth slightly open, and she bit her lower lip before shaking her head.

"Or not," she added quickly with a fake smile. "Goodbye Doctor!"

She turned swiftly and took a step towards the door, but the Doctor grabbed her hand.

"What do you want to know?" He asked earnestly.

"Sorry it was silly, you don't have to tell me anything..." Clara apologized, hoping she hadn't upset him.

"What do you want to know?" He repeated.

She sighed, shrugging. It made her sad that he was always blabbering about silly little things, but hiding how he truly felt, deep down. She had opened up to him, and she hoped he would do the same.

"I don't know! Anything you wanted to tell someone one day, but for some reason, couldn't."

He narrowed his eyes for a second and then smirked.

"I know. Follow me."

He slipped his hand into hers and lead her to the lower level, under the control room, then opened one of the several compartments to take out a big book with a leather cover. He handed it to her, but she didn't take it. She looked at it and read the words on the cover out loud:

" _1200 Year Diary..._  What's that ?"

"Me. Everything that I've ever done, everywhere I've been."

"You keep a journal?" Clara asked with an astonished tone.

"Yes! Because memories, Clara, are too important." "Here. Take it."

She shook her head. The Doctor frowned.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want to read it."

"But, I thought–"

"I wanted  _you_  to tell me something significant. Something special. And I wanted  _you,_ to  _tell me_. I don't want to read your... logbook, Doctor, even though I'm sure it is fascinating!"

The Doctor's shoulders fell as he looked sheepishly at the floor, the diary dangling in his hand. He knew she was right. She knew him, his Eleventh version, and she wanted to know something about him, about how he felt, because she knew how sad he was. When she had first asked him this question, the first thing that had came to his mind was not this diary. It was...

"The Ponds."

Clara looked at him, and her big brown eyes lit up.

"Their names were Amy and Rory. They died a few months ago. They were my best friends. I didn't want to keep on going anymore. I had lost too much, suffered too much. There comes a point, where life stops meaning anything. Amy and Rory, they had been there for me, I... I loved them, we were like a family. Traveling the world together...but it never lasts. With me, it never lasts. And I had to watch as the two people I cared most about, were whisked away to another place. The cruelest place ever, because I could never, ever visit."

Clara opened her mouth to say something, then she closed it. He did not need to hear she was sorry, so instead she slid her small hand into his bigger one.

"So I retired to a cloud in the sky, alone. In Victorian London. I didn't want to help people anymore. I just wanted to be alone. And then along came this girl, who made me remember who I really was; The Doctor. She helped me more than I can possibly bare."

"Who was she?" Asked Clara.

"A governess." He replied.

"Where... where is she, now?"

He smiled. It was a mysterious and sad smile, the kind of smile Clara loved but also feared.

"Not very far." He replied.

"Well," said Clara, "if you find her again... Don't forget me."

She walked to him and stepped on her tiptoes, balancing her free hand on his shoulder so she could place a kiss on his cheek.

"Thank you, Doctor. For saving my life. And for telling me this. And for some other things."

"What other things?"

Clara laughed.

"All the things that are yet to come!" She said as she walked away.

The Doctor watched her go, and murmured to himself:

"Oh, my Clara. I will  _always_  remember you."


	7. Nineteen Years Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I was supposed to post the alternative ending, but I got a lot of requests from people asking to make Clara and Jo meeting again, so there it is. I hope you will like it, and I would like to point out the fact that my lovely beta reader almost wrote half of it, so a big thank you to her again. For those who wanted the alternative ending, I'm really sorry, I promise I will still post it another time!
> 
> I also was really inspired by the music 'The Leaf' by Murray Gold while writing this, you should maybe listen to it while reading :)

 

 

 

> _"What did you see?"_
> 
> _"That... everything ends."_
> 
> _"No, not everything. Not love. Not always."_

 

**May 2014.**

Sitting alone behind a table, with only a bottle of water and a pencil in her hand, Joanne had been signing books for hours. She was growing tired, even though she loved signing sessions. Meeting people who told her the most inspiring stories was so rewarding. Seeing that her books were still making a change in the world put the biggest smile on her face. Sometimes she would reflect on how much her life had changed during the past nineteen years, since she was just some nobody, madly scribbling her ideas away on a napkin. The sudden fame had been a little hard for her at first, like it would have been for anybody, but she had learned that as long as she was doing something she really loved, she would always be happy.

The last person walked away with their signed copy of her new novel, and she took a sip of fresh water before sitting back in her chair and letting out a long sigh.

Her last book wasn't the only one people wanted her to sign, there were still a lot of the  _Harry Potter_  books, especially the first one, or the last. She had closed her eyes for a brief moment when she heard a soft thud. She was surprised when she looked down to see that someone had put a copy of  _Harry Potter and The Prisoner of Azkaban_ on the table.

"Oh, the third one!" She remarked, opening the book to sign the first page without looking up. "What's your name?"

"Clara."

"Oh, lovely name, Clara." She replied, focusing on writing a nice message before handing it back.

She finally looked up to the person standing in front of her. It was a young woman, with dark hair and big brown eyes. She was smiling down at her, a very sweet smile. She thanked Joanne and took the book, but didn't walk away. She didn't say anything either, but she seemed to be waiting for something. Joanne frowned, wondering what she was supposed to say. The girl seemed familiar but she couldn't remember from where, kind of like a dream, trying to remember a face you're not sure you ever really saw. Jo had seen so many thousands and thousands of faces in her life that it was a bit hard for her to keep track.

"Please Miss," a harried looking man said from behind Joanne. "The author needs some time to rest."

The girl jumped as if she had just been woken up, then apologized quickly. She glanced at Joanne one last time with a sad faraway look on her face then walked towards the door. She really reminded Joanne of someone, but—

" _Nice to meet you, Jo. I'm Clara, Clara Oswald."_

" _So... I'm hearing voices? Oh God no, hearing voices no one else can hear isn't a good sign, is it!"_

" _Please, tell me I'm not going to spend the rest of my life eating chocolate on a couch."_

" _You gave me hope when I was hopeless, and I wanted to do the same thing for you."_

" _I'm from the future. And if there's one thing that can travel through time, it's books."_

" _Take care of yourself."_

"OH MY GOD!" She shouted hoarsely by standing up so suddenly that her chair fell over. Turning to her publicist she said, breathlessly:

"Please, I have to go, it's really important, I'll be back, just... just tell people I will be back shortly!" Then she pushed herself away from the desk and rushed after Clara Oswald.

She pushed through the door and burst out onto the street, looking frantically around her. Just when she was certain Clara had disappeared she saw her small form walking down an alley off the side of the street.

"Wait!" She called. "Clara, wait!"

The girl stopped, her back still to Joanne. She was wearing a long trench coat, dark tights and high-heeled ankle boots. Joanne stopped too, a few meters away from her, breathless.

"Is it you? Clara, is it really you?"

No reply.

"Clara, please. I'm sorry, I remember you. It's been nineteen years, but… I do remember. I've thought of you and the Doctor often since that night. So many wonderful things have happened since then and sometimes, I wondered if it wasn't all just a dream, if I hadn't imagined all of it. I had almost convinced myself, too, but I never, not  _once_ , forgot."

Clara stayed motionless. Joanne took another step towards her.

"When I met you, I asked you for a pen because mine was broken. You, you looked into the Doctor's pockets – you were wearing his jacket – and after, you asked me about what I was writing, and you said you loved children's stories, and that you wanted to buy mine as soon as it was published. Well, I was just wondering... did you like it?"

Jo slowly walked towards her until they were just a foot apart, so close and yet surrounded by so many years of time.

Clara let out a small sob before turning around and wrapping her arms around Joanne's shoulders, resting her chin on her shoulder the same way she had done nineteen years earlier. Joanne returned her hug, gently rubbing her back.

"Let me look at you!" She said, pulling Clara away to hold her at arms length.

Clara smiled sweetly and bit her lower lip. Joanne frowned. She was still the beautiful young woman who had recited the first lines of her book by heart, she had the same thin lips and big brown eyes sparkling with love and kindness, her brown hair waving around her angelic face, but something was off. She was slightly slouched and Joanne could see dark circles under her eyes. Now that she was seeing her up close, she could tell that her hair seemed ruffled, unbrushed, and her skin was pale.

"It's been nineteen years, but... you... you haven't changed at all. You're exactly the same! How..."

Clara grinned.

"Right." Joanne understood. "Time travel."

Clara's smile grew larger.

"It's been nineteen years for you. It's been only one for me and the Doc–... well, it's only been one for me." She explained.

It was the first time Clara spoke, and her voice sounded exactly the same as it had all those years ago.

"How is… how is the Doctor?" Jo asked.

Clara froze, her face lost the last bit of color in it and her eyes turned glassy. She folded her arms around herself, as if gathering protection from some unknown danger.

"He's okay, I guess." She mumbled. Then quickly, changing the subject as fast as she could, she asked, "How's little Jessica?"

"She's great, thank you! She's grown so much! You wouldn't remember her if you saw her!" Replied Joanne. She was a little uneasy about how unwell Clara looked and it was obvious something was very wrong.

On top of that, Joanne was still under the shock of Clara's sudden and unexpected appearance. She couldn't believe she was now standing in front of her, exactly the same girl she was nineteen years before, casually asking her about her daughter. She waited for the brunette to add something, explain what was going on, but she didn't, so Joanne asked the burning question she had been dying to ask since she had realised who Clara was:

"Why have you only  _just_ come to see me? You have a time machine. You could have come anytime. I thought I would never see you again..." She said with a sad voice, like a mother whose daughter had left her.

"Well, you know," Clara, replied, "I've been busy... stuff has been happening and honestly I really wanted to come see you but… but… I thought you wouldn't have time for me."

"I will always have time for you. You are my friend! You rid Edinburgh of demonic creatures, you helped me and my daughter, you did more than anyone could have done for me at the worse time in my life. You gave me  _hope_."

Clara gave her another smile, the kind of smile where you can see all the goodness of a person, not in the smile itself, but in their eyes. Clara's big chocolate eyes were filled with limitless caring. Knowing that she had returned the favour of giving Joanne hope was the best feeling in the world.

"I know." She finally answered softly. "But you can't deny the fact that you were busy. Becoming the most famous author in the world must have been very time consuming." She laughed.

"What did you do for nineteen— sorry, I mean, a year?"

"Well… I finally discovered who I was, to… to The Doctor"

"Really?" Said Joanne, raising her eyebrows. It was the first time Clara had mentioned his name and she could tell that something was off about the way she said it. "He finally told you?"

Clara frowned.

"You knew about this?"

"Of course I knew! It was my plan, I was there! Oh, I kept hoping he would tell you!"

"Tell me what?" Asked a very confused Clara.

"Well, you know... How he defeated the Dementors..."

Clara pursed her lips as wrinkles of confusion appeared on her forehead.

"He... he never mentioned that."

"What? Wait, what did you mean by 'who we really were to each other'?" Joanne asked, perplex.

"Well, it's a long story, but basically, I jumped into his time stream and scattered myself into a million versions of me, and that's why he kept meeting me. I didn't know it when I met you, he hadn't told me yet. But he managed to save me."

"You  _scattered yourself_  into a million pieces?" Joanne gasped, feeling her maternal concern coming back in a flood.

"Echoes, yes." Clara replied, looking at the floor. It was obviously not her happiest memory.

"But how did you survive this?"

"Oh, I died. I died thousands times, but I survived anyway. It's a bit complicated. He... he came back for me."

"Oh, Clara. You sacrificed yourself to save him, didn't you?"

 _« Of course. Clara Oswald, always the guardian angel. »_  Joanne added to herself.

"It wasn't just him, you know. It was the whole universe, because he saved so many worlds." She said in a faraway voice, shrugging her shoulders. "Anyway, we also met his past-selves and stopped him from blowing up his own planet."

"Oh, I see. Just the routine."

Clara laughed.

"Told you. Busy year. Very busy. I still had some time to read your new novel though! The Doctor read it too, although he didn't finish it –he doesn't like endings–, but I did."

"What did you think of it?" Jo asked, truly afraid that Clara might not have enjoyed it.

Clara looked thoughtfully at the grey sky for a second, then replied:

"It was amazing. Different, but amazing."

Joanne let out a sigh of relief she didn't knew she was holding and whispered:

"Thank you. It means a lot."

Clara let out another small laugh.

"What?" Asked Joanne.

"Nothing." Clara replied. "It just that the fact that my opinion matters to  _you_  is something I could never have imagined."

"Oh stop it, I'm going to blush!" Joanne laughed.

They both smiled for a moment, then Clara finally sighed and whispered:

"I'm so glad to know you're doing well."

"Is that why you came?" Joanne wondered. "To check on me?"

Clara swung on her feet. There was something about her that seemed so lost, so far away. It was making Joanne's heart ache. Seeing that Clara needed her, she placed her arm gently around her shoulders, bringing her close to her heart.

Finally Clara whispered,  _"He's gone."_

Her voice broke before she could finish the sentence, and she buried her head in Joanne's shoulder. Suddenly, she couldn't keep it in any longer and all of the pain, the heartbreak and the agony that Clara had felt came spilling out, her eyes started leaking and she couldn't seem to get them to stop. Joanne held her as Clara's shoulders shook with silent sobs. She could see how brave Clara was trying to be.

She waited until the last sob had escaped Clara's mouth, then led her to a nearby bench and sat her down.

"What is it? What do you mean he's gone?"

Clara looked at her with wet eyes and replied raggedly, "My Doctor, he's gone. He was being his wonderful, wonderful self and of course, he had to save them."

Her voice broke again and she looked away before continuing.

"There was this town, called Christmas, funny name for a town. And it was in danger, he protected that town and all the people in it for years and years. He protected it from all the monsters that had come to haunt him, and when he was old, when he had spent his every minute his every breath, saving those people, I failed him. I… I failed to save him." A small sob escaped her mouth and Clara took a deep breath before shaking herself and explaining, "When the Doctor is seriously wounded, when he doesn't have enough time to… heal himself… his body stays alive by making a new one, of sorts. But it's not him any more, it's not  _my_ Doctor. One minute he's there, and then the next, there's this other man. This person who looked nothing like him, who didn't even remember how to fly the TARDIS!" Clara spit out. "I didn't know what to do, and then I remembered that one magical, magical day, before everything started, when me and The Doctor… when we were happy. And I knew I had to come to see you. So that's why I'm here I guess, because I don't know where else to go."

"Oh Clara!" Joanne cried. She pulled her into a tight hug, at a loss of what to say or how to comfort the poor girl.

"And you know what haunts me? Every, single, dreaded night that I spend alone… I… I… Loved him. And I  _never_  told him."

It seemed as though there was still tears left in her and slowly they came to the surface, threatening to spill out on her pale cheeks.

Joanne softly stroked Clara's hair. Trying to pour all of her love into the motion. Hoping that somehow, she could show Clara how loved she was.

"I remember that night," Joanne said finally, "The Doctor was overcome with grief. You had collapsed; and all he could focus on was how to make you better. I came up with a plan. Maybe it wasn't the most brilliant plan, and maybe it wasn't the most genius, but it worked. You remember how you told me that love secrets endorphins? Well the reason the Dementors couldn't get to me and Jessica was because I had created a shield with my love. I had used  _love_  to fight the Dementors and I realised that  _love_  was the weapon. That was it Clara. That was my simple little plan, love. And that night, when there seemed like there was no hope left,  _you_  saved us because there wasn't any love more pure than the love that your Doctor felt for you. You know what my plan was? It was a kiss. That's all. One kiss between two people that I could see more than anything else, loved each other. That night, the Doctor would have done anything for you. And he did, selflessly, bravely, he never told you what happened. He kept his love to himself because there was only one thing more important to him than his love for you. It was your safety. He knew that telling you what had happened would bring up things that couldn't be explained away. And then there was always the possibility you might not feel the same for him. So he never did it. That foolish man. He never told you. And it pains me beyond belief that I am the one that has to tell you this. That I have to be the one to tell you the truth, when he's already gone. Clara. The Doctor loved you more than  _anything_  else in the world. His every word, his every thought was of you and how to keep you safe. And he succeeded. He kept you safe and although my heart breaks, I am grateful to him that you are still here today."

Clara was looking at her, a mixture of shock and wonder filling her eyes.

"You really think so?" She whispered.

"I'm positive." Joanne replied, stroking Clara's hair one last time. "No matter what, he's  _still_  your Doctor and he  _still_  loves you. Of that, I am absolutely certain."

Joanne stood up, pulling Clara's limp body with her.

Clara looked at this wonderful woman, someone who had been her mother, her friend, her role-model, her inspiration. "Thank you." Was the only thing fit enough to say.

"The Doctor and you, you're meant to be together. And the silly things is, both of you are so  _bent_  on protecting the other, that you can't bare to let go." Joanne sighed. "It seems to me that we are forever going to be passing hope back and forth. We are linked in some eternal way, always helping the other. This is me, telling you to  _let go._  You have to understand that the Doctor was always yours, and no matter when, you will always be his. His face might have changed, but his feelings for you haven't. Don't push him away, Clara. He needs you."

Joanne gently placed a kiss on Clara's forehead.

Clara opened her mouth to reply, but the harried looking man from inside the bookstore ran up to them.

"Mrs. Rowling!" He shouted. "Everyone is looking for you! We thought you had left the event..."

"Sorry," Jo said curtly. "I've been signing for three hours without pause, I just needed some air."

"The people are all waiting for you, Ma'am..."

"Tell them I'm coming." She replied. "I just have to..."

She turned to Clara, but the space in front of her was empty. The girl was gone.

Joanne smiled sadly. She knew that all things had to come to an end, she just hoped that Clara and her Doctor would finally find each other.

"Ma'am?"

She turned back and started walking towards the bookstore. Before passing through the door, she turned to the empty street, and as if Clara were still standing in front of her, she murmured softly:

"Run. Run, you impossible girl. And remember me."


	8. Alternative Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's late but as promised, here's an alternative ending to Chapter 6 (since the seventh is the epilogue). It is just in case some of you were frustrated about the fact that Clara doesn't learn that the Doctor had kissed her. Please, tell me which ending is your favourite, I'd be very interested to know! :)
> 
> Warning: There's a slight bit of angst, but the rest is fluff. Fluff fluff fluff fluff. Everything is fluff.

When Clara finally woke up, she lied pensively on her bed for another hour. Not that she was still tired, but she had dreamed strange dreams during the night. Not nightmares, exactly, but weird dreams that she had no idea why she was having. For example, she could  _clearly_  remember the soft taste of the Doctor's lips on hers and it was the kind of silly dream that feels so real, until you wake up and you're mad at yourself for believing it for even a second. It was even more disturbing to Clara that she usually didn't remember any of her dreams at all. She felt like something was off, not quite right. There was also the sentence Jo had said to her the day before.  _You helped us more than you think._ It had resounded in Clara's mind throughout the whole night. Why had Jo said that? And, more importantly, what had Clara done?

She was still thinking about this when the shrill ringing of an alarm clock made her jump back to reality. She flung her arm out and slammed the snooze button to turn the evil thing off; she was pretty sure it hadn't been on the bedside table last night, which meant the TARDIS wanted her to get up now, and box was probably right, she had dawdled long enough. She got up from her bed, her body still a bit numb, then ran to the bathroom, which was still the same as usual, and took a quick shower. Luckily, the TARDIS had been kind enough to give her some clean clothes which were folded up on one side of the sink. She nearly cried tears of joy when she discovered a big beige woolen jumper which was fluffy and warm when she put it on, and skinny black jeans that fitted her perfectly. She put her boots on before heading to the control room.

The Doctor was waiting for her, with his impeccable hair and perfectly straight bowtie.

"Good morning!" He said happily when he saw her coming through the corridor.

"Morning." She replied, smiling.

The fact that time didn't exist inside the TARDIS was still a bit disturbing for Clara. The Doctor understood that, so he always said good morning to her when she woke up and goodnight when she was going to sleep. It was just one of all the many things he did to make her more comfortable.

"I... umm, I brought you some hot chocolate... Just in case, umm, you know, you still felt a bit... weird." He mumbled awkwardly.

Clara thanked him and took the steaming mug he handed to her, wrapping her fingers around it.

"How do you feel?" He asked while she took a few sips of her drink. "Are you sure you're okay? You're not too cold, or sick, or sad?"

"You're taking your name way too seriously,  _Doctor._ " She laughed. "I promise you, I feel completely fine. Except maybe those dreams," she added with a shrug. "but it probably has nothing to do with—"

"What dreams?" He cut in, straightening his back, as wrinkles of worry appeared on his forehead.

Clara blushed all of a sudden and turned her head away, avoiding his gaze. She was certainly  _not_  going to tell him about that.

"Nothing. Told you. It's silly."

"Please Clara, tell me, it could be important. You've just gone through a serious Dementor attack, and if we don't do something now, you could be psychologically marked for the rest of your life. You need to tell me how you feel. Please."

"Speaking about the attack," said Clara who had pulled herself together, and who also happened to be an expert at changing subjects, "What happened after I fainted? How did you and Jo defeat the Dementors?"

This time, it was the Doctor's turn to blush.

"It's not interesting, you don't need to know." He grumbled without looking at her in the eyes.

Clara smiled. She knew she had already won.

"Come on, I'm sure it is! Why don't you want to tell me? What could have  _possibly_  happened that you don't want to tell me?"

She secretly hoped it had something to do with magic, real magic. She couldn't help but imagine the Doctor brandishing his screwdriver at the Dementors as if it were a wand and screaming " _Expecto Patronum!"_  which it was something she would forever regret to have missed.

"Because it's not important!" He replied defensively. "You're safe now, that's all that matters." He added, softly.

"Jo said I helped more than I thought," she carried on, without allowing herself to stop, crossing her arms over her chest. "Is that true?" She questioned, tilting her head to the side.

"Yes! No!... Stop it!" He replied, running around the console, pretending to flip switches and press buttons, but Clara knew they had already landed.

"There is something you're not telling me chin boy, and I need to know what it is!" She commanded bossily, following him around while pointing an accusing finger.

"Urgh, you're so much cuter when you're sleep!" He sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Doctor, I think I have the right to know what part I played in all this!" She exclaimed, beginning to get edgy.

"You wouldn't like it anyway!" The Doctor yelled, losing his temper, before suddenly turning around and taking a step towards her.

He was towering above her, doing his best to act intimidating and Clara wondered what exactly he was hiding from her. Her determination grew and she narrowed her eyes at him.

"But we're supposed to be honest with each other!" She retorted, taking another step towards him and not the slightest bit scared. Their faces were now dangerously close. "I don't know much about you, and you're keeping secrets, I get that, really, but you can't hide the truth from me when I'm involved! I can handle it, I'm not a child, and—"

She had no time to finish her sentence. The Doctor grabbed her face between his hands, causing her to lose her balance. She pressed her hands to his chest in order to steady herself, looking up into his face. Before she could think, before she could even blink, the Doctor's lips were on hers. Hot, hungry and urgent. It was so fast and unexpected that Clara gasped, her eyes flinging open in surprise. She could feel both of his hearts beating under her palms, as his lips pressed harder against hers. She let herself get carried away in the feel of his lips, in the feel of his body beneath her hands and the feel of his thumb caressing her cheek. She let him roughly push her against the console, pressing their bodies together. It was as if he was trying to pour his very soul into her's, as if he was trying to make her understand something...

Then she remembered.

It was coming back to her in flashes. She remembered Jo standing in the middle of the road, the Doctor's kiss, less fierce than this one, and the dazzling light coming from their intertwined bodies, trampling all the Dementors in its path.

_She remembered everything._

He didn't leave her time to react, and a second later he had let go of her, pushing her away as if nothing had happened.

Clara blinked several times, mouth half open, breathless.

"You... you kissed me!" She stammered speechlessly, her thoughts jostling one another.

"You blushed." He replied, without looking at her.

"Why— why did you do that?"

"I was being honest."

"I... I remember now... I remember everything! All of it!" She breathed, putting her hand on her forehead, in shock.

The Doctor turned to her.

"What exactly do you remember?"

"Yesterday, the Dementors! I remember you, kissing me, and the light, a bright light, coming out of… us. You did that,  _we_ , we did that!"

She trailed off, looking at him and frowned. She suddenly felt impossibly sad.

"How could I forget that?" She whispered to herself.

"Well, you were unconscious..."

"No, I mean, my dreams... It's what I dreamed about, it was hidden somewhere in my mind, I couldn't remember, but a small part of me did, and it was coming back to the surface during the night. It felt like having a word on the tip of the tongue, but it's back now..."

She looked slowly up at him.

"Why didn't you want to tell me?" She asked in a small voice. "Why keep this a secret?"

He sighed.

"Because, you deserve better than this, Clara." He said, swallowing.

He hadn't found her because of her mystery. He had found her because she was Clara Oswald. Because he knew it was his last regeneration, his last face,  _his last bow_ , and, the selfish man that he was, he had wanted to spend the rest of his last lifetime with her, to protect her from this imminent death, until his own, as if she were his last breath. Her mystery was not the reason he had found her, it was the simple fact that the Doctor, as always, did not want to be alone. She was the reason he was still the Doctor. Clara Oswald was his last victory.

And now, she was standing in front of him, a terrible look of sorrow on her lovely face, and he knew she was truly the most important person in the world to him. He owed her so much, and she was going to have to watch him die. Though she was more vulnerable than him —humans! Such a short life, such fragile bodies! And yet so,  _so_  precious. He just wanted her safe from the world, from this universe which seemed to want her dead so badly. He had saved it so many times, couldn't it just let his Clara live in return? But the universe was cold, it didn't care about one, small human life.

She shook her head slightly, mouth half open, gazing at him with her big brown eyes.

"I don't understand..."

"If anything happens to you Clara,  _anything_..." He leaned his hands on the corner of the console and looked down at all the switches and levers, clenching his jaw, unable to finish his sentence.

"You don't have to feel responsible for me. I can take care of myself. The same can't be said for you, though."

The Doctor pulled himself up and looked at Clara. He would never admit it, but she was right. She was not the first to tell him this; he could almost hear his little Amelia Pond slowly clapping.

_I think, once we're gone, you might be alone; which you should never be._ _**Don't be alone, Doctor.** _

But his Amy was gone, and that was what scared him. He couldn't let the same thing happen to Clara.

"You were ready to sacrifice yourself out there!" He accused her.

"I couldn't let innocent people die because of me!"

"But we could have found another way!"

"Yes, and you  _did_ , so why are we discussing this again?"

"Because you were too eager, you understood what the consequence was, and you would have done it willingly." His voice got softer and she had to lean in to make out what he said, "I've made you into this."

"Doctor, I didn't have any other option!"

" _You had me!"_ He shouted abruptly, which made Clara jump and instinctively taking a step back.

"You do realise that you're mad at me for something that  _didn't really happen_ , right?" She said quietly after a long silence, biting down on her lower lip.

Here was the problem: It had already happened.  _Twice._  She had given her life two times to save his. But she didn't know that, and he couldn't explain it. All that he could tell her was that he never wanted to lose her.

He sighed, suddenly feeling impossibly tired.

"You're right. I'm sorry." He apologized.

He took a small step towards her, as if waiting for something and she was the only person who could give it to him. She did, and with another small step, they were in each other's arms. She wrapped hers around his waist and put her head on his chest, just between both his hearts, hearing their fast beats against her ear. She could feel his big chin on the top of her head, and his breath in her hair as he let out a long sigh.

"You know," she said, "when I was a kid, I remember my Dad was always worried about me and my Mum, constantly fussing over us both. But it didn't stop my Mum from dying. You once told me about fixed points in time. I do believe if I have to die someday, no matter if it's just from old age or an alien attack, it will happen because it has to happen, and I'll die. And there's nothing you will be able to do about it, Doctor. You just have to accept that."

She felt him pressing her tighter against him.

"I know." He finally said, stroking her hair.

"Good." She replied. "So can you explain something to me now?" She asked, letting go of him, "Why did you kiss me and make me the equivalent of a Patronus charm?" She asked, teasing him.

"It was Jo's plan." He smiled. "She understood that the only way to cast them out was to demonstrate a real, pure feeling, a feeling stronger than fear and sadness."

Clara froze, the smile vanished from her face and suddenly she felt very scared.

"Love…?" She whispered, in a small voice.

And for once in The Doctor's life, he stood still too.

They stared at each other and something seemed to pass between them. No words were needed. They understood each other irrevocably and completely. The universe might be big, but it was no match for the pureness, the sweet innocence of their love. It was one so great that lifetimes could come and go and it would still be there. A story, an adventure, an emotion and a friendship between two people who needed each other more than either of them would ever understand.

"Yes." He replied, an unsteady smile slowly appearing on his face.

That was it. "Love." and "Yes." They would never need a ceremony, a celebration, a fancy ring or a dress. They didn't need what so many others did. They just needed each other and those two words.

The slow smile on his face turned into a grin and she laughed. They didn't know how it happened but they were in each other's arms once again. And this time, they both realized how much they belonged there. A silent sigh escaped both of them and it was as if they had travelled miles and miles, galaxies and galaxies together and now they were one step closer to the each other's heart.

"So, see you next wednesday?" He asked once they had let go.

"Of course." She replied simply.

"Who do you think we should meet next time? Tolkien? C.S. Lewis? Sir Arthur Conan Doyle? They all loved me."

She scrunched up her cheeky stub nose while shaking her head from left to right, pouting her lips, making an adorable childish face.

"Nah, let's go for another planet, chin boy.  _Show me the stars._ "


End file.
